


Hiraeth

by ironmdn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 1940s, AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Anakin Swears A Lot, Dating, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Hurt Anakin Skywalker, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Burn, Soldier anakin, WW2, WWII, World War II, soldier anakin skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 59,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmdn/pseuds/ironmdn
Summary: Cast away due to a Jedi relic during a mission, Anakin finds himself in England. Confused, he tries everything he can think of to get back home, but to no avail.After two years of living with a foster family that kindly took him in, Anakin decides he's had enough. So what does he do? He enlists in the army to go fight in the war and leaves without a word to his British family.Someone must save him —teach him to let go of Coruscant and love England— before it's too late. But who?
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Reader, Anakin Skywalker/Reader
Comments: 114
Kudos: 75





	1. The Sake of Fighting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Testing the waters with this one. I couldn't keep the thought of WWII soldier Anakin out of my mind so I had to write it. Hope it isn't all too confusing :)

_ March 1944 _

Brief skirmishes in the south of England and the north of France consumed Anakin's days and, more often, his nights. Despite the advanced weaponry and air raids, war hadn't changed so much that Anakin couldn't recognize it. It didn't matter how people died, only that they did. It didn't matter how they won, only that the newspapers reported they had. All he worried about was staying alive and making sure the guy across the way didn't.   
  
He was quiet and introverted during interludes of card games and raucous laughter. There had been a time when Anakin couldn't be kept from enjoying a fleeting moment of peace with his men. Except now, he was just another soldier, not a general. No one would look to him for advice or encouragement. In fact, he couldn't actually remember the last time someone had even looked his way.

So he proved his worth on the battlefield, almost never using his gun, in preference to the sharp edges of his bayonet. It put him in the thick of things and gave him the comfort of a lightsaber. Anakin's courage, or recklessness, brought him to the attention of his commanding officer. It felt strange to walk from the enlisted men's tent to that of Colonel Turnage. Never in his two years of having landed on Earth had he thought he would be on the receiving end of one of these 'reckless youth' speeches he was so used to hearing from Obi-Wan —and now was sure he was going to hear. Anakin wasn't positive, though, whether the sting came from the Colonel's need to give the speech to him or the use of the word 'youth.'

He took a deep breath and braced himself for humiliation before stepping into the tent. Turnage sat at his desk, feet up and on the phone. He motioned for Anakin to sit as he agreed numerous times to whatever was being said on the end. Finally, he dropped the brown phone back into its slot and, placing his feet on the ground, turned to face Anakin.

"Private Skywalker, it has come to my attention that you take undue risks on the battlefield," he began, getting straight to the point as commanders are wont to do and reaching for a file in his open cabinet. 

Anakin grit his teeth, steadying himself. "I don't believe so, sir. I know what I'm doing," he ground out.

The colonel's graying eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You think so? If you can count the battles you've fought in on one hand, you don't know what you're doing."

Anakin felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. The worst part was, the colonel didn't mean to be patronizing. He didn't know the scar that ran from Anakin's collarbone clear down to his knee had split him open for over an hour before the medical droid could get him stitched up. He didn't know the fine red line that ran across his right eye was the outcome of a lightsaber duel with no other than Asajj Ventress. But Turnage wasn't finished.

"However, I've seen you in action and you move like a soldier. You're green but you don't let the enemy know that. Through their eyes, you're the most experienced man out there. Which is why I'm promoting you. We could use more men like you." Anakin could hardly believe his ears.  _Promoting_ …

Colonel Turnage smiled and motioned for Anakin to stand as he moved around the desk to pin on the new insignia.

"Congratulations, Corporal.” He patted Anakin on the shoulder and then the phone rang and he was busy again and Anakin was blindly walking back to his tent, the inquiring faces of his fellow soldiers blurring into one. They shrugged, ignoring him as he did them. That night he determined this wouldn't be the last time his previous experience would give him an edge.

And so it went over the next few months. Anakin was reckless, ruthless, brilliant in battle, and he received a promotion. Yet something was missing. He wasn't a warrior anymore, only a soldier. The heroics he had been so renowned for were gone. He wasn't fighting for a cause, only for the sake of fighting. Everyone noticed something slightly different about Anakin when he was on the battlefield. It was as if he was looking for something and thought he might find it in the blood splattered on his uniform, like ink spots at a psychiatrist's office. His eyes took on a fierce quality and he seemed taller, no matter how absurd it sounded.

Yet when he sat on his bunk, away from the laughter and jokes of the others, a faded picture clutched in his hands, the light in his eyes died. He was a shell of the man they fought beside. In the heat of war, they could always trust him. Maybe not with their lives, but he always knew what to do. Not so here, where he could remember so wholly the wholeness he'd once known. Here he was angry and lost and mad at the world.

One such night after a particularly excruciating skirmish, Anakin was one of the few men still awake. Three or four others sat huddled around a poker game passing a bottle of something purely alcoholic back and forth as they indiscreetly watched Anakin staring once again at the unknown photograph.

"What do you think it's of?" One of them whispered.

"Probably his girlfriend," another said as he tossed a keychain into the pot.

"Nah, he's too ornery to have a girl."

Their curiosity got the better of them, so much later, after Anakin had long since fallen asleep, two of them crept over to his bunk and slyly pulled the picture from beneath the edge of his mattress. One shone an electric torch on it.

"It must be his family." The picture showed Anakin with Obi-Wan and Padmé at a picnic on Naboo. Obi-Wan was mock-glaring at Anakin who was tickling Padmé who couldn't seem to stop laughing long enough to get him back.

"You ever seen him that… happy before?"

The other shook his head. "Maybe they died," he said, squinting at the picture.

Anakin cracked an eye open. "Maybe you shouldn't poke through other people's things," he announced his very much awake presence.

Both men let out yelps of surprise. "Oh! Er, uh, sorry, mate." The one dropped the picture on Anakin's bunk and they took off for their own. Anakin shook his head, too tired to be more than a bit put out.

_ May/June 1944 _

_ Normandy, France _

By the time Anakin was a Staff Sergeant, his division had been stationed in the south of England for weeks, training and awaiting the top secret mission they'd been pulled for. It demanded the utmost secrecy and even the date was undecided. All anyone knew was that they were collaborating with the Canadians and Americans and that the launch of the mission required a full moon. Late in May, June 4 was selected as their D-Day but the weather seemed to disagree. It was thought that the whole operation would have to be postponed an entire month so the full moon could be utilized, but on the fifth they received word to take the chance.

At about eight thirty on the morning of June 6th, Anakin’s division rode ashore of Sword Beach in the north of France near Caen. They came up the beach with minor casualties —a term Anakin would have once deemed moronic. "Nothing is minor about casualties," he would have said. Now it was just something he heard in passing.

It was in that winning battle, however, that Anakin's life was changed, once again, forever. For that day he did something Anakin Skywalker, jedi knight, the warrior and hero, would have done, not him. He saved a man's life. Anakin hadn't grown close to any of the men in his division, but he could at least recognize a few if need be. One such man by the name of William had come ashore beside him and the two had worked out a natural rhythm. They fought easily, never as easily as Anakin had fought beside Obi-Wan or Ahsoka, but comfortably all the same.

It was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon and the infantry had advanced nigh on three miles. Anakin was drenched in sweat but thankful to the relative light weight of his uniform. For once he was using his gun, though he still preferred the bayonet and kept it close at hand. After quickly dispatching a line of Axis soldiers, he turned to find William flat on his back with a gun pointed at his head. He was gushing blood from a bullet wound in his shoulder. Without thinking, Anakin swung his gun inches from William's face and knocked the pistol from the German's hand. The man turned, his rifle in hand and an ugly snarl on his face, which gave William the opportunity to roll away from the immediate threat.

However, now Anakin was locked head to head with the German himself. They swung and kicked, their bayonets firmly in place. It was a graceful dance between two frustrated people, pouring out their grievances in light footwork and gory steps. In a final blow, the German slashed at Anakin's chest, a perfect cut from arm to hip. It never crossed Anakin's mind that he'd lost the one-on-one war, for with his last coherent thoughts, he kicked out, tripping the German so that he fell neatly onto his own bayonet.

Bloody blackness consumed Anakin's world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiraeth means a homesickness for a home you can't return to or that never was by the way :) I might change it though, I'm still not very happy with it but I couldn't think of anything else


	2. Immature Glory

_June 1944_

_ Hastings, England _

(y/n) (y/l/n), British army nurse, bustled between rows of cots spilling out into the hospital hallways. The casualties from Normandy had descended on you all that morning and, finally, the stream of injured soldiers was dwindling. Two men stopped you, a stretcher between them.

"This is the last one, miss. Where do you want him?"

"I'm sorry, but we're full. There isn't even any more floorspace—" you began to explain but were cut off.

"This one's almost dead as it is! We'll kill him if we try to move him again."

You bit your lip, wiping a drip of sweat from your forehead with your arm. You glanced around at the crowded hall, the pristine white walls a sharp contrast to the dirt and blood smeared on the half-conscious faces that stared up at you. "All right, all right. We'll find a spot for him."

You had them wedge the cot between a bed and a balcony, the only available place in the whole of the building. With nimble, skilled fingers you pulled back the slashed shirt. After seeing so many wounds that day, this one wasn't enough to phase you. You gingerly plucked his dogtags from his uniform and, rubbing the blood and grime from it with your thumb, read aloud, "Anakin Skywalker."

You sighed. He was so young. They were  _ all _ so young. What made them don dull uniforms and march to their deaths? Were their lives really so bad? Or did they think it was all glory and no guts? Upon closer consideration, however, you remembered when you had signed up. You had practically glowed with excitement. The thrills, the honor… With a jolt, and Anakin's dogtags still clutched in your hand, you realized you were no different than he was. Only now it would be your job to save his life where he had tried to lose it.

You didn't know why, but your heart constricted a bit tighter than usual as you handed the doctor a fresh scalpel over the barely-breathing body of Anakin Skywalker. You'd done this hundreds of times since you'd joined the military medical staff, but something about this one felt different. It was just a twinge, a feeling, a hunch, but something about this man was different.

Hours after Anakin's and a dozen other successful surgeries, you found a free moment to check on Anakin. You stripped off your gloves and mask and wound your way between overflowing beds, cots and stretchers to his corner by the balcony. You pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear and shifted to your knees. You touched a hand to the scarring cuts on Anakin's face. Your fingers lingered a moment on his cheek before you reached under the cot to pull out the box of his salvageable things. His uniform had been useless but there were a few personal items on him still intact, if barely.

Gingerly, youpulled the small stack of water and blood-stained papers from the box and settled them on your lap. On top was the photograph of him with two unknown faces. You ran a thumb over it, taking in the pure joy on each of their faces. Your eyes flicked to Anakin's slumbering face, imagining him happy and smiling. You could picture his lips tipped up, a twinkle in his eyes. For some reason, it wasn't hard at all.

You set the photograph back in the box and painstakingly unfolded a once-white scrap of paper so as not to rip it.

_ Dear Mom, _

_ I won't say I've made a mistake, because I don't believe I have. And it's not like you can scold me anyway. ~~I would like to apolog ~~ I will say how very different this war is than any other I've fought in before and not just because I'm unaccustomed to guns and bombs and airplanes. It is different because there is no sign of you. I guess it shouldn't feel that way, since you've been gone for much longer than I've been here. But back home I had the comfort of feeling your presence somehow. I don't here, and I  _

His script was light and elegantly old-fashioned. You found it difficult to make sense of the unfinished letter, but could tell by his obvious dedication to finding just the right words that it meant a lot to him. Had she not approved of his going to war? Your brow furrowed a bit as you tucked the letter on top of the photograph. His face was young and naive but it wasn't entirely impossible he was more world-weary than you had initially perceived him as. The thought only made your heart ache for him more.

A tattered journal was all that was left in your lap. Your sense of propriety kicked in and you found you couldn't bring yourself to peek inside. Pursing your lips, you placed the journal in the box beside the photograph and the letter, noticing a small circular object. 

With furrowed brows, you took it out of the box and examined it. It was like nothing you've ever seen before. It looked like a compass, but the artifact had a few buttons here and there and, what confused and intrigued you the most, it had things written all over it. But the script was completely foreign to you, you didn't recognise any symbol on that thing. You figured it must've been a language you were entirely unfamiliar with. Before you could inspect the small thing any further, you noticed Anakin starting to shift on his spot. You quickly placed the round object back into the box and pushed it back beneath his cot.

Anakin's eyes fluttered open at the cool pressure on his forehead. Haze filled his vision and he went to rub it from his eyes but found he was so stiff he could hardly move. He groaned, blinking fiercely. The blurry shape before him became a woman, gently pressing a damp cloth to his forehead.

"Where—" Anakin croaked. He cleared his throat and began again, "Where am I?"

"St. Agatha Hospital in Hastings. You've been here three days," you informed him.

"Three days?" Anakin's eyes widened in shock and he tried to sit up but gasped at the pain that shot through him. His hand immediately went to the bright white bandage that wrapped from beneath his arms to his hips. A sigh escaped his lips and he sank back onto the pillow.

Your mouth tipped to one side sympathetically and you patted his arm. "You'll be all right. Nasty scratch, but you'll be all right. Three weeks, a month or so and you'll be back on your feet."

" _A_ _month?_ " He nearly shouted, "Oh no, no. That won't do."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, it's going to have to."

Anakin shook his head, wincing at the throbbing pain there. "You don't understand. I have to get back out there." He didn't even notice when he slipped back into the commanding tone that always got him in trouble. You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms.

"Well, if you're really that intent on killing yourself, hold your breath until you turn blue. But you are not leaving this hospital until you're fully recovered," you snapped, stormy eyes flashing. You pushed yourself to your feet in a huff and disappeared to nurture some other poor soul.

Anakin slapped his hands over his face in exasperation and irritation. He cursed softly under his breath, an oath that would be foreign to the ears of anyone near. With a sigh, he drew his hands down to settle on his heavy bandage.  _A month? Surely that was at the most_ ,  he thought reluctantly, his body aching to be back in the fight, though he silently conceded that it might have just been an ache.

The next morning, you settled a tray of food on Anakin's lap, jolting him awake. His eyes opened warily and he glared in your general direction. You pointedly ignored the look. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. I was a little testy last night. I’m (y/n) (y/l/n)," you introduced yourself, extending a hand.

Anakin poked a fork into the lump of what he assumed was porridge. "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

"For what?" You lowered your hand to your lap, realizing he wasn't going to take it.

"For assuming I'm in this fight to get myself killed or because I'm too young to understand what getting killed constitutes?" It was more of a snarl than anything and Anakin watched as you visibly flinched. His conscience barked a reprimand at his self-control, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize. He'd always had trouble with the words 'I'm sorry.'

Your jaw clenched and your fingers knotted briefly in the fabric of your skirt. You stared at Anakin for a long moment and he brought his eyes up to meet yours. You swore you could feel an electric shock run through you, though you weren't even touching each other. Tearing your gaze from his stony one, you glanced around the room at the other patients and nurses. Finally, you looked back to him but avoided meeting his eyes.

"Not too young. Too immature," you said harshly. Anakin opened his mouth for a biting retort but you held up a hand. "Look, that may seem cruel, but I've seen hundreds, probably thousands, of young men just like you. You want adventure, excitement, and if you have to die, you want it to be romantic, noble and worth something. But did you stop to think what it would do to your family? Did you stop to think about everybody else? No, of course not. You thought only of a Victoria Cross pinned to your breast or a meeting with the Queen. Fame, fortune and glory. You—"

Anakin abruptly interrupted you. "That's right. Fame, fortune and glory. I had it once. And, fucking hell, do I want it back. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to eat my," he paused to examine the crispy, black square in his hand, "toast in peace."

You found yourself unable to form words after such a brush-off. With a shake of your head, you rose and whisked the tray away with you. Anakin made a grabbing motion for it as you picked it up but only succeeded in brushing the hem of your stiff skirt with his fingertips. He collapsed back against his pillow with a sigh. The food may have been relatively inedible but he had planned to at least make a valiant attempt. A moment later you returned looking rather flustered and set the tray back on his lap. With a mumbled 'sorry' you spun on your heel and stormed off.

Anakin found himself involuntarily smirking.

You slammed the door to your room hoping it would make you feel better. To your chagrin, it only jarred a small container of pins off the desk. They spilled like a million silver frustrations onto the floor and, with a sigh, you bent to pick them up. Once they were all back where they belonged, you stood and began to undo your hair. It fell around your shoulders and you fluffed it out with your fingers.

Sinking into the chair at your desk, you stared with empty eyes into your little mirror. Tiredly, your tumbling thoughts slowed.  _ What is it about him? He's infuriating!  _ With drooping eyelids, you began to unbutton your blouse. No matter how hard you tried to think of something else, your thoughts dwelled on Anakin. His wound, the photograph of what you assumed was his family, but mostly his eyes. Until that day you'd thought him an immature boy with potential for greatness, but one look in those deep, sea-blue eyes full of emotions you had yet to experience had you reeling.

No matter how cliché it sounded, you felt as if you could get lost in their crashing waves, drown in their chaotic depths. There was another world hidden behind his eyes and you were terrified of everything that lay within.

It was twilight and most of the patients were quiet, writing letters or reading, or already asleep. Anakin leaned against his pillow, pen and journal in hand. His delicate script poured easily from the black fountain pen onto the page. You watched him discreetly from across the room as you folded towels on a rack. Anakin chuckled, feeling your eyes on him.

With a stab of his pen forming a period, he raised a hand, "Nurse? Nurse, could you come over here please?"

You raised an eyebrow, knowing full well Anakin avoided contact with you at all costs. After your first two meetings days before, you both had unwittingly decided it best not to encourage confrontation. You were failing miserably but it was unusual for either of you to initiate conversation of any kind. You made your way to his cot and, hand on hip, stared him down. "You rang?"

"If you're so curious about what I'm writing, just ask," he said quietly.

"Who says I'm curious?" You defied.

"Seven not-so-subtle glances in as many minutes says so. You wouldn't make a very good spy."

You rolled your eyes. "Well obviously you want to tell me, so go ahead."

"Oh no, if you're going to be like that, I'm keeping it all to myself," Anakin grinned.

"For heaven's sake, grow up!" You hissed, turning to march from the room, flicking the lights out as you went.

"Hey, Skywalker!" Anakin leaned against a column in the hospital courtyard, his eyes closed, but slowly opened one and then the other at the sound of his name. He sighed at the sight of Jonathon Dietrich, a corporal with nothing better to do than irritate him. Dietrich had suffered only a small wrist injury at Normandy and was to be sent back to the front lines in about a week.

When he didn't deign to reply, Dietrich taunted, "I heard you  almost  fought off some blasted German with your bayonet like a sword or something. How very  _ medieval_."

Some of the others laughed, though Anakin wasn't sure why. It wasn't even funny. In the spur of the moment, he decided against an insult and asked, "You any good with a sword?"

Dietrich folded his arms and sauntered cockily over to Anakin. "I'd say I'm quite the Lionheart."

Anakin coughed into his hand to smother a smirk. "Oh, really? Anybody got something for us to spar with?" He looked over Dietrich's shoulder at the others. They glanced amongst themselves for a moment before managing to scrounge up two heavy sticks.

Anakin eyed the stick with disdain, remembering the hiss of his lightsaber as he ignited it and the perfect blue shine just before a battle. Now here he stood sparring for the sake of his pride with a  _ stick. _He shook his head to clear it and moved to a suitable stance. Dietrich quickly followed the motion, exactly copying Anakin. It took everything in him not to burst out laughing right then and there, but he held it in. He would have plenty of time for that once Dietrich was flat on his back.

The two circled each other, one light on his feet, the other pretending to be. Anakin waved the stick around with a twist of his wrist —purely out of habit, but also to further annoy Dietrich. With a roar, Dietrich lunged. Anakin easily dodged the stab. It took mere minutes for the others to gather around the duel, staring in fascination as Anakin blocked each amateur blow. Finally, he seemed to grow bored of the unequal match and, with a flick of his wrist, sent Dietrich's stick flying over the clustered heads and crashing to the cobblestones. He pushed him down with his forearm and rather dramatically pointed the end of the stick at his face. Dietrich was out of breath and panting. His face was beat red, though whether from the exertion or embarrassment, Anakin couldn't be sure.

"That's not fair! I have a sprained wrist!" Dietrich protested vainly.

"And Skywalker's not even supposed to be up," a steely feminine voice said from the outskirts of the small crowd. Anakin rolled his eyes and tossed the stick to the ground. The crowd parted to reveal you.

"Relax, (y/n). See?" He spun on one foot, gesturing to his apparent agility. "I'm fine."

"Oh, so _that's _ why you're bleeding," you pointed with one hand to the line of red visible on his bandage through his unbuttoned shirt. "You idiot! How can such a supposedly intelligent man be such a moronic prat? And that's Nurse (y/l/n) to you."

Anakin again rolled his eyes. With an exaggerated "Yes ma'am," he allowed himself to be led inside. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, or even silently, he enjoyed all the attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave this story a shot, I honestly didn't think anyone would be on board with it but I'm so glad you're enjoying it so far:)


	3. Bourbon Moonlight

It was almost midnight when you flung open your door to a pale, stumbling Anakin. One hand loosely held your robe together and the other clutched the doorknob. You brought the first up to rub the sleep from your eyes, too tired to bother tying your robe.

"Dear god, Skywalker, what are you doing?" You mumbled.

Anakin leaned heavily against the wall. "Looking for you," he rasped out.

The pained quality of his voice drew you from your sleepy haze. You blinked rapidly, forcing him into focus. Now fully awake, you realized he looked awful. His hair was mussed as if from tossing and turning or, as Anakin was wont to do, fighting, and his glorious blue eyes were clouded.   
  
"Anakin! What did you do?" In an instant you were across the hall, your hands out to steady him.

Anakin winced. "Oh, it's Anakin now, huh?"

"Don't be a cad. What happened?" You scolded.

Without a word, but definitely a grimace, Anakin pulled back his shirt to reveal the dressing mostly undone and blood seeping through the gauzy white fabric. You gasped, throwing a hand to your mouth. "Bloody hell…" You murmured, "Come on. I'll change the dressing in here. No need to wake everybody else up."

You took his hand and led him into your room, quietly shutting the door behind you. Motioning with one hand for him to sit at your desk, you grabbed a roll of gauze and some tape from a drawer. Anakin pulled the too-small chair out and sat down, watching as you moved gracefully around the room. Your hair hung rather unaesthetically around your shoulders, belying your uneasy sleep. The white linen robe you wore over your nightgown flowed with you due to the soft breeze dancing through your open window as you turned back to him.

With delicate hands, you began to peel the bandages from his chest. He winced only twice, for which you were supremely impressed. The dressings were loose and bloody, leading you to wonder what he'd been doing.

"Really, Skywalker. How could you have gotten into a fight two hours after lights out?" You finally broke the silence.

"Why do you assume I got into a fight?" Anakin demanded indignantly.

You paused to raise an eyebrow at him. "You don't honestly think you can weave your pretty words into a neat, little, distracting web with me, do you? It might work with some of the others, but I know better."

He hissed as you dragged a damp cloth over his wounds, taking dried blood with you. "They're not pretty words. I really didn't get in a fight!"

"Then how did this happen?" Anakin stammered a moment, turning his hands over in his lap. You nodded with finality. "I know. You got in a fight."

"No, I didn't! I— I—" he sighed, his pride wounded no matter how he chose to answer. "I had a nightmare. I guess I thrashed around a bit before I woke up."

You set the cloth aside and met his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, your voice far softer than silk.

Anakin's brow furrowed, wondering briefly how you could be so caring and sympathetic, before it hit him. "Oh. It wasn't about the war. I can handle that," he clarified, "It— it was about my family."

You picked up the gauze and, holding it firmly in place under his arm, reached around him to wrap it. He held his breath so as not to breathe in the heavenly lavender scent he'd caught earlier that day when your hair had brushed against him as you helped him up from his cot. Anakin remembered the days when he would never have denied himself such a tiny luxury and so the next time you leaned in, he breathed deep, exhaling so the stray strands at your cheek fluttered slightly.

"Are they the ones in the picture?" You asked finally, after your heart stopped tapping out a big band melody.

"What pictu— you looked through my things?" His voice turned accusatory and the moment's spell, however brief it had been, was broken.

"Ah…" Guilt crossed your features and you pursed your lips, wrapping the gauze a final time and taping it off.

"And you say I have no common decency!"

"Skywalker! All I knew was your name, but I helped operate on you myself and you'd been unconscious for two days. So, yes, I looked through your things. I was curious, all right?" You tossed the roll of bandages back into your drawer and slammed it with more force than necessary.

"So you weren't really curious about what I was writing the other night; you already knew what it was!"

You shook your head. "No, I didn't look in there," you admitted quietly. With a glance at Anakin and another at the door, you got to your knees and stuck your arm under the bed.

He raised his eyebrows. "What are you doing?" He asked, chuckling slightly. The chuckle faded when you came up with a bottle.

You offered it to him with a, "You drink?"

"Won a few rounds," he admitted, taking the bottle. He held it up to the window to examine the label by moonlight. "Bourbon. Good taste." Anakin almost didn't catch your smirk as you sat on the edge of the bed, it being the only other seat in the room. He uncapped the bottle and took a long swig, savoring the creamy flavor on the end of his tongue before handing it over.

You put your lips to the neck and somehow managed to make it look elegant, drinking from the bottle in the middle of the night. You both sat in silence for a long moment, exchanging drinks. Anakin rested an elbow on the neat, white desk, admiring the waning moon that seemed to be just outside the window. He felt as though he could reach out and touch it. Never in England had Anakin seen such a moon.

"What is it?" Your voice seeped through the silence.

"The moon. It's so… Oh, I don't know. So…" Anakin trailed off, sipping at the bourbon.

You stood and padded across the hardwood floors to see for yourself. The sight took your breath away. You weren’t entirely sure  _why_ it did, for it wasn't full, nor was it a luscious harvest yellow. Instead, it was an awkward sort of oval shape and its white hurt your eyes. Still, it was stunningly beautiful. You stood behind Anakin and set your hands on his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. He handed the bottle back to you and pulled away, leaning his folded arms on the desk. When his gaze did not stray from the window, you returned to the bed. And so you remained for what was left of the night— or morning, rather.

The beginnings of a hangover woke you from a dead sleep. The first thing you saw when you finally managed to pry your eyes open was the empty bourbon bottle discarded by Anakin's feet. The first thing you thought was,  _Bollocks, Anakin!_

In an instant you were awake, headache and nausea forgotten, if only to be replaced by an adrenaline rush that felt irritatingly similar. You rolled off the bed and onto your feet, taking a moment to gain your balance through the dizziness that you swam in. Placing a hand on Anakin's slumped shoulder, you shook him. "Anakin," you whispered urgently, "Anakin, wake up."

He grunted and raised his head from the desk. His eyes were a bit glazed over and he mumbled, "There are three of you," before fully waking. "Oh. There you are. It's morning already." The last was a statement, rather than a question, but still he didn't seem to comprehend it in his mostly asleep and just a smidgen hungover state. "Oh. It's morning already. Right."

"You have to get out of here! We can't have somebody seeing you. What would everyone think? I mean—"

Anakin placed a hand over your mouth, effectively stopping your rambling tirade. "You talk too much and you're far too concerned with propriety; after all, why not just tell them the truth; but don't worry. I won't do anything to injure your reputation. It won't have a broken fingernail by the time I'm safely back on my cot." You noted he was far more sarcastic and acerbic in the mornings.

"Propriety nothing. I could lose my job if somebody thinks we— well, you know. So go!" You pointed at the door, stamping your foot. "You do know, right? Not too  _young_ and _immature_?"

Anakin noted you were far more sarcastic and acerbic in the mornings. He growled and stood almost gracefully, kicking the bottle by accident as he went. You grimaced, afraid he would slam the door behind him but sagged in relief when you hardly heard it shut.

Fog crept into Hastings so it was impossible to see more than just across the street. It drifted in and out in wisps. Dew obscured windows and dripped from the trees. "You look terrible, (y/n)," Margaret, your good friend and fellow nurse, announced.

"Thanks. That's sweet of you," you said with a fake grin before slipping back into the irritable frown you'd worn all day.

"No, really. You do. You look like you spent the night drinking yourself silly or something." You were suddenly grateful you had decided to have lunch on a bench down the street so no one else would be around to hear this conversation. When there was no reply, Margaret smirked around her sandwich. "You spent the night drinking yourself silly?"

You sighed. "No. But there may have been bourbon involved."

Margaret licked a bit of mustard off her finger and laughed. "Oh really. So who is he?"

"Who's who?" You bit into your own sandwich, groaning as you lost a good portion of lettuce out the bottom.

"Honey, you don't spend the night drinking unless there's a guy involved. I imagine he must have been with you because the only other reason you'd down a bottle of bourbon would be if he left you and seeing as I'm your best friend, I'm supposed to know when you're in a relationship  before you break up."

"Ah. Right. Of course," you rolled your eyes, "Um…"

Margaret quirked an eyebrow at your reluctance. "Well, I if I had to guess, I'd say that soldier. The young one you've been doting on. What's his name? Alan?"

"Anakin!" You corrected before you realized what you were saying. You flushed bright red and Margaret patted your knee.

"Right. Anakin." She repeated with a smirk. "Quite an unusual name, don’t you think?" You hummed in response, and then, she inquired, "Is he American?"

You sighed and nodded your head. "How do you know all that?"

"It's my job to know these things. So what happened?" Margaret wanted to know.

"Nothing  _happened_. His dressing came undone and I fixed it for him," you paused, "And then we drank until about two o'clock in the morning and we fell asleep in my room."

Margaret stopped with her sandwich in midair, her mouth still open to take a bite. "You fell asleep in your room?"

You blushed again. "Um. Yeah. I got him out before anyone saw him though. I hope. Lord, I feel like a teenager again. This is ridiculous, Margie. He's just a boy. And he gets on my last nerve. Why are we even having this conversation?"

Margaret held up a hand. "Conversation terminated. Have you heard from your brother lately?"

Anakin sat with his back against the stone wall outside the hospital. He knew he wasn't supposed to be up and about quite this much but with the events of last night and his fight with you that morning, he'd needed to clear his head. When the fog allowed, he watched you and another woman he vaguely recognized eating lunch down the street. What was it about you that could make him so angry in so short amount of time? Only the three people that knew him best could do that to him. Even they couldn't get him riled like you could, though. Just a few well-placed jibes and his blood was boiling.

Anakin barely noticed when you stood and crossed the street to come his way. Maybe it was the fog, maybe he was preoccupied, but either way he jumped when you stopped beside him.

"Ah! Criminy, woman," he breathed, shaking his head.

You didn't quite roll your eyes and took a seat on the damp grass beside him. "I won't mention that you're not supposed to be out here because I'm sure you already know that."

"Mhmm." Anakin didn't even bother to turn your way. You exhaled exasperatedly.

"Are you planning on going to the dance everybody's so excited about? I mean, it's not for another two weeks so you should be okay to go." Your attempt at conversation was noble, but not incredibly well received.

Anakin shrugged. "Probably not."

"I should have figured you wouldn't be much for dancing," you acquiesced.

"No, I like dancing, just not this modern," Anakin made a face and a gesture you guessed was supposed to finish the sentence.

"So what? You'd rather do the two-step?" You quipped.

Anakin smirked. "Not exactly." You sat in agitated silence, nothing like the companionable quiet you'd found in the dark the night before.

Abruptly, you spoke up. "What is it exactly that makes you such a, such a…" you trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Prat?" Anakin offered helpfully.

"Mmm. Not quite as harsh as I was going for, but it'll do," you conceded.

Anakin took a moment before answering cryptically, "It's the fog, the rain, the tension. It's _England_."

"Do you miss America?”

He took a moment to answer. "Yeah. That's it." Anakin tucked his knees up to his chest and dropped his head. You bit your lip, shivering as a particularly dense fog covered you for a moment. You were just about to walk away and give up on him, preferably forever, when you spotted the strange object you'd found along with his belongings while he was unconscious poking out of his pocket. 

"What's that?" You asked as you pointed towards it. 

Anakin sighed heavily. "What's what?" He turned his head to look at you with a rather annoyed look and then shifted his eyes to the direction your finger was pointing at. Realisation hit his eyes and he took it out of his pocket, playing with it with his fingers. "It's nothing."

Not quite satisfied with his answer, and against better judgment, you pushed, "I saw it before," his head quickly shot back at you, his eyes wide. "When I went through your belongings, I mean." You added shyly, and his shoulders seemed to relax a bit. "Couldn't understand a thing on it. What language is it?"

"It's a dialect," Anakin answered, his eyes still focused on the small artifact. 

"Mhm," you nodded your head and sheepishly extended your hand with a look that said 'may I?'

Anakin handed you the small object and you took it in your hands. You fidgeted with it to further inspect it —but you still didn't have the slightest clue of what it could be, or its purpose, for that matter. 

"What do these buttons do?" You looked up to meet his eyes. 

"Nothing," Anakin answered sharply. "It doesn't work." You noticed a tinge of anger in his voice, but you decided to be polite and not say anything about it, not wanting to test his limits. "I used to be good at fixing things." He whispered, and you suspected it was more to himself than it was to you. So, again, you didn't say anything. 

Without thinking, you started pushing random buttons and they, in fact, didn't do anything. You kept pushing them anyway, until you noticed it started to annoy him. 

"Okay, that's quite enough." Anakin stretched out his hand to take the artifact away from you, but you held your hand up high and away from his reach. "Quit it, you're gonna break it." He changed his tone to a much more serious one, and you noticed that anger in his voice again. 

"How will I do that if it's already broken?" You reasoned, still holding the object away from him. 

Anakin leaned over until he finally got a hold of it —or at least a small part of it. You were still reluctant to letting it go. "Give it back!" He tugged it towards him. 

"Stop that! You'll—" before you could finish your sentence, you gave a yell and jumped to your feet as you took in your surroundings —finally letting go of the object. Anakin groaned and lifted his head to ask what in god's name was the matter but his eyes widened and for a moment his jaw worked uselessly.

"Skywalker!" You cried, "What just happened?" The fog that has surrounded you was completely gone. Above your heads were some of the tallest buildings you'd ever seen and beneath your feet was at least two feet of snow —both of which certainly hadn't been there a minute before. And, bloody hell, _were those flying cars?_ Or were they just very odd looking planes? You couldn't believe your eyes. 

A slow smile spread over Anakin's face. It wasn't exactly happy, nor was it quite comprehending, but it was content and pleased. He easily pushed himself up and dusted the snow off his pants before squinting at the sky. "It can't be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should clarify that Anakin has both arms in this story lmao. I struggled more than I'm willing to admit to find a way for Ani to explain his way-too-technological prosthetic arm to 1940s' society, so I just decided to let him keep his arm for the story's sake.
> 
> I also wanna thank everyone who is on board for this story. More to come soon :)


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend it snows in Coruscant shall we.

With a sharp nod, he turned around and called out to someone, "Excuse me? Hello, good sir. Would you be so kind as to tell me how the galaxy fares?"

You giggled in spite of yourself. "Anak—" that was until you turned around to see who he was talking to. 

You could've fainted right then and there. The creature's skin had a greenish colour, its eyes were yellow and —to further horrify you— it had four arms and a bony headcrest. Without realising it, you let out a small scream, courtesy of your fear and surprise towards the unknown creature. 

Anakin sighed at your stuttering and stammering. "(y/n), don't be rude," he chastised. You looked distinctly annoyed at him, but scooted a bit closer anyway when the creature began speaking.

"Why, the galaxy is as peaceful as it has been ever since the Clone Wars!" The creature squeaked.

"The war is over?" Anakin looked surprised. 

"It only ended a couple years ago, yes." The green being said. "If I may, why do you ask?"

Anakin cleared his throat. "I've been travelling for some time. Is Chancellor Palpatine still head of state?"

"Oh, no. He was stripped of his position once it was discovered that he was a Sith Lord."

Anakin looked taken aback by the creature's statement, but you noticed he tried to seem unfazed by it. You remained silent, not understanding what in the world they were talking about. 

"What about Senator Amidala?"

"She's the new head of state. A mighty good one, I'd say."

Anakin nodded his head. "I see. The Winter Festival hasn't come and gone yet, has it?" You could tell by the calculating look on Anakin's face he was trying to figure something out.

"No, no. It starts next week. You have so many questions, you must be foreigners!" The creature exclaimed.

Anakin paused, his shoulders tensing. "I'm from Coruscant, but I've been away a good long while."

"What about me?" You couldn't help but inject.

"Yes, what about your lady friend?”

"Oh we're not—"

"We're not—" you and Anakin exchanged slightly embarrassed looks, your cheeks reddening from cold and poorly hidden blushes.

"I'm not his lady friend," you said tightly.

"She's from Naboo." Anakin's explanation seemed to appease the curious green creature and he nodded, bouncing from one foot to the other. There was a brief awkward silence before Anakin spoke up again. "Well we'd best be on our way. Thank you for the information, sir." The creature muttered a goodbye before going back to whatever it was doing before you showed up.

You spun to face him. "What in the bloody hell was that?"

"What was what?" Anakin looked somewhere between indignant, over-joyed and irritated.

"That— that creature!"

"That _creature_ ," Anakin repeated. "Is a Besalisk." He explained matter-of-factly, as if he was talking about the weather. 

"There are no such things as that."

"There are here."

"Speaking of which," you started. "What exactly is  _ here_?"

"Coruscant," his short answers were beginning to get on your nerves. 

"And what  _ is _ Coruscant, Anakin?"

"A planet,"

"No, that can't be right. I may not be an astronomer, but I do know that a planet with such a name doesn't exist."

"It doesn't exist in  _ your _ galaxy," Anakin replied. "We're in another galaxy."

"That's impo—"

"You didn't honestly think there was just one galaxy, did you?" He interrupted you with a ghost of a smirk, a cocky eyebrow raising. 

You stayed silent at that, you supposed he did have a point. You did know there were other galaxies out there, but never stopped to consider that yours might not be the only one that had a planet with life forms. 

"I suppose you're right," you reluctantly admitted. "So I'm from _Naboo_ now?"

"It's a planet not far away from here. Humans. Easiest explanation," his answer was short and quip, almost angry.

"Mhmm. Two questions, Skywalker: how did we get here and why are we here?" You listed them off on your fingers.

"That artifact you were so keen on touching brought us here, and why… who knows?" Anakin shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing for some more appropriate clothing as he made his way down a snow-covered road. You followed, slipping and sliding behind him.

"Anyway, I'm pretty sure we're just outside the Outlander Club. It's a couple days walk to the Imperial Palace," Anakin changed the subject as you walked. "Finding an available speeder on Coruscant has always been hard, especially when we don't have any credits or anything to trade for it. So we don't have any other option but to walk." He rambled. 

"If I had any idea what you were talking about I might be interested. Now how do we get back?" You rubbed your arms with your hands in an attempt to warm up.

"We don't. Don't you think I would've come back here the day I got to England?" Anakin looked up sharply at your gasp.

"Skywalker! I have a job. I can't just go traipsing off to other galaxies whenever I feel like it," you exclaimed, pinching yourself.

"You won't wake up. I promise it's no dream. I'm no more happy that you're here than you are."

"I mean it, Anakin! I have to get back! What will people think? We must have just disappeared! Aft—" you stopped dead in your tracks, hands in the air and eyes wide. "A-A-Anakin? What's  _ that_?" You stabbed a finger at the road up ahead of you. Anakin turned to look and grinned.

"Hello!" He called, "Wait up!" With that he took off running, throwing powder up onto you. You sighed and ran after him. You stopped to be met by a group of… weird looking people. You could think of no other name for them. Things of fairytale and out of dreams. A man with tan skin and large cranial horns, an orange skinned woman with tentacles that grew from the crown of her skull and another man with tentacles coming out of his head and green skin stood in front of you. 

"Hello! Off to the Winter Festival?" The woman asked jovially.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world!" Anakin's grin was almost contagious and you had to hold back one of your own.

"We can spare some food and fire if you'd like to join us," the tan skinned man offered.

"Thank you. We would greatly appreciate it," you vaguely heard Anakin say.

"Oh no, no, no! We have to get  _back_ , Skywalker!" Everyone turned to stare at your outburst.

"(y/n), I told you, we can't get back on our own. And I, for one, am certainly not going to skip the Winter Festival because for some fucking reason you miss England," Anakin told you almost under his breath. You wondered if he had something to hide from these strange people.

"It's my home!"

"There's a war!"

"It's your home too!"

"No it's not.  _ This _ is my home. Always has been, always will be," Anakin snapped, spinning on his heel with a mostly genuine smile. "You wouldn't happen to have any clothes with you, would you? We've come from far away, as you can see."

The woman shook her head regretfully. "Afraid not anything that would fit you two."

Anakin nodded. "I thought so but there's no harm in asking." You shivered and, rolling his eyes, he shrugged off his cardigan and handed it to you. You took it, glowering, but murmured your thanks nonetheless.

The group made camp on the edge of the Entertainment District —as they called it. As night fell, other travelers' fires could be seen glowing between the skyscrapers. You sat on a log, warming your feet by their fire with Anakin's cardigan hanging a bit too large on your shoulders. You had to admit, dinner had been lovely. It had been too long since you had eaten a proper meal such as the one you were just given. Still, your and Anakin's disappearance weighed heavily on your mind.

The man with horns on his head, who's name you had since learned to be Alp, padded through the snow to your side and hopped up onto the log. "You wish to return to your home."

You bit your lip and nodded. You were still unsure why Anakin was so hesitant to tell these people where you both came from. He had made something up so confidently for the Besalisk, why not for these creatures as well?

"You do not look like you hail from Naboo as your friend would have us believe," Alp stated.

"What makes you say that?" You had never been a good liar, you knew.

"You do not have the look of a Naboo native. Too… foreign," he explained. 

"She's from Naboo." Anakin's hard voice cut into your conversation and both you and the man looked up at him. His face was stern, his eyes stony, daring Alp to challenge his word. Alp stared him down but nodded briefly and leapt from the log to pad silently away to the others. Anakin took his seat and silently offered you a steaming mug. You eyed him warily but withdrew your hand from his cardigan to take a sip. You nearly choked on the strong alcohol.

Making a face you said, "Good lord, Anakin! That's awful!"

He laughed and took a sip himself, waggling his eyebrows at you. "Weak stomach?" He teased.

You shook your head. "Not at all. But that's terrible." The obnoxious silence of the outside of the city began to rest solely on the both of you as other fires were doused and your companions wished you a good night. Finally you asked, your voice shaky and lacking the confidence he'd come to expect from you, "Will we ever get back?"

"I don't know. I hope not." Anakin stood abruptly, tossing what was left of his drink into the snow. You half-expected it to burn and sizzle but it only made a small stain on the pristine white ground. As he turned his back on you, featherlight snowflakes began drifting from the sky once more.

Anakin woke with the sun, dawn just touching the horizon. He propped himself up on his elbows and glanced over at you. Your dream-mussed hair was lightly dusted with fresh snow. You had lost his cardigan in your sleep and now lay shivering beside him. With a smile and a tenderness he never would have shown while you were awake, he pulled the garment back over you. You shifted, moaning peacefully, and nestled further into the impromptu pillow someone had kindly made from winter grasses for you. His fingers trailed over your cheek, hovering just above your skin. With a sigh, he stood, stoking the fire with a long branch and tossed a few nearby twigs onto it.

Three days later the group of six arrived at the Imperial Palace. It was late in the afternoon and snow fell even as you walked but it was light and hardly even dusted your hair. You were grouchy, your summer nursing uniform blocking very little cold even with Anakin's cardigan. You trudged a little ways behind everyone else until you reached the gates of the magnificent castle.

Anakin stopped at the stairs leading to the gate. You passed him, the sleeve of the light green cardigan brushing his arm. You took a few steps ahead of him but paused as you realized he wasn't following. The others in your group had left you behind, too excited to notice their missing human friends. Glancing back at him, you were struck by the emotion in his face. Anakin was not one to get sentimental or wear his heart on his sleeve. He was sultry and stony, unpredictable and unreadable. But, then, that was England. Everything here was so different. So opposite. Where Anakin's eyes had shone with buried maturity there, here they reflected an almost boyish yearning for things greater than he.

"Anakin?" You reached out a hand and rested it on his forearm. His gaze shot down, taking in your short, chipped nails and graceful fingers. He stared blankly at your hand for a moment, as though he wasn't registering your presence at all. Finally, the corner of his mouth tipped up in part of a smile and he wrapped his fingers around yours, dragging your hand from his arm.

"Hmm?" Warmth coursed into your hand as he rubbed it between his own. Your breath caught in your throat as he stepped forward, reaching toward you. You felt your eyes close of their own volition for the briefest of moments before you forced them open again. With the lightest of touches, Anakin brushed a flake of snow from your hair.

"I-I think the creature, you know Alp? I think he knows we're not from here." You bit your lip nervously, more from the smile you'd never seen in Anakin's eyes before than anything else. You needn't have worried, however, because your words shattered the moment. Metaphorical shards exploded between you and he abruptly dropped your hand and stepped back. Once again his eyes were cold and distant and he clenched his jaw.

"I  _ am _ from here," he ground out.

You sighed, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation. "No, you're not! You may love this place, Anakin, but it's not your home!"

"How do you know that? What gives you the right to discount Coruscant from my life when you don't even know what you're talking about?"

"What about England?"

"Why do you care so much about fucking England? What makes a rainy, depressing country covered in blackout curtains so fucking fabulous?"

"It's  _ home_!"

"Not for me, it's not. You can't even begin to understand what Coruscant is for me." Anakin lowered his voice as you began to draw curious stares.

"I understand you love it and I get that. It's beautiful, peaceful, extraordinary. It's special. But so is England! You have a home, a family, a life!" You followed suit, concern edging in on your anger.

"Would you give up the England track? I'm never going to love it and I'm probably never even going to like it! How can I when I have this?" He gestured at the beauty around you.

"But you  _ don't _ have this! You said it yourself: you don't know if we'll return to England! That means there's a possibility we might, so why not learn to love it too?" Before Anakin could answer, Alp ran between you, yelping.

"Are you two going to stand here bickering or are you going to come join the festivities?" He barked impatiently.

Anakin ran a hand over his face, quickly hiding any traces of anxiety. "Yes, yes, we're coming. Come on, (y/n)."

You glowered at being rather ordered about but followed his lead up the steps. The closer you came to the palace, the straighter he walked. His chin tilted, not arrogantly, but distinctly. He appeared at ease, but braced. True importance, not self-importance, filled him. It was in the way he moved, the way he nodded to each and every being that passed him. This boy was a man, with secrets clawing just beneath his snarling surface.

He had a breaking heart and a broken spirit and seemed to think this place was the balm for his bleeding wounds. Something told you being here could only make things worse. For as he had said: they would probably have to leave at some point. While the thought of a chilling British rain harmonizing with the toll of church bells and blurring Big Ben might warm your heart, it ripped his open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much technical research I had to do in order to write this story lol. I really hope no one comes at me with technicalities because I'm in no way a star wars universe specialist —I did the best I could :)
> 
> The storyline regarding Coruscant is kinda my own lil personal AU of what would've happened if Palpatine got caught. I think Padmé would make a great chancellor so I thought why not.
> 
> Also, I really hope no one's confused with the timeline going on (it'll be explained as the story goes on though). I changed many things in the SW universe so then again don't come at me saying things didn't happen a certain way cause I'm making most things up lol. Hope you liked it :)


	5. Jedi Knight

Your gasp mingled with those of a hundred other denizens as you made your way into the courtyard. Brilliant red poinsettias lined the windows high above your heads and holly hung in every archway. All sorts of beings cheerfully crowded together, talking and laughing in every voice and native language. Anakin grabbed your hand, holding them together as he picked his way between everyone else. Before you knew it, you were standing in a grand hallway somewhere inside the palace. Anakin quickly caught the attention of a guard standing beside an impressive looking door.

"Excuse me, sir?" Anakin began. The guard turned towards him, his dark eyes serene. "If it's at all possible, I  _must_ request an audience with the Jedi Council."

You shook your head. Of all the pompous things, he thought he could just waltz into some foreign land and have a chat with whoever important person he desired. These were delicate matters! Commoners didn't walk into Buckingham without an invitation; certainly it was no different here.

"It is a matter of utmost importance," Anakin added. 

The guard looked the two of you over with a debilitating glance before giving a sharp nod. With narrowed eyes he inquired, "Any weapons?"

Anakin lifted his arms. "None." The guard nodded and reached for the large silver handle on the door. He held up a finger, gesturing for you to wait. Your eyebrows shot up.

"That's it? He's just going to let us in? And what's this life-or-death matter you need to speak with this council about?" You demanded in a rush, tucking a frizzy curl behind one ear and dropping his hand so you could place yours on your hip. Neither of you seemed to realize you had been holding hands through Anakin's entire conversation with the guard.

"Coruscant’s a bit less… rigid… than  _ England,_ you'll find," he half-sneered.

You sighed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. He could go from noble to frustrating in a matter of seconds. Before you could form a quip response, however, the door opened again and the guardnodded for you to come in. Anakin straightened his shoulders almost imperceptibly and stepped forward. You began to follow, shrugging out of his too-large cardigan, but he motioned for you to stay.

"Will you wait here, (y/n)?" He requested, his voice annoyingly polite. You were momentarily stunned, but the door shut with hardly a sound before you could even open your mouth. Your hands balled into fists and you shook them at, well, you couldn't be sure. The sky, Coruscant,  _ Anakin._

"Oooh!" You growled at the closed door, furious at being dismissed so. "I stitch him up, I put up with his tantrums, I let him drag me to god-knows-where and he tells me to 'wait here'?" You had meant the outburst to be a silent one.

"Did somebody finally learn the secret to invisibility?" A deep, masculine voice asked from your right. You spun around, your fists falling to your sides. You leaned forward slightly, eyes squinted in confusion at the random question. With a sweeping glance you took in the shock of dark hair and the easy brown tunic and breeches. Realization dawned and you straightened, a light blush spreading across your cheeks.

"I said that out loud, didn't I?" You asked rhetorically. The handsome man grinned and nodded.

"It's all right, I talk to myself too," he winked, "Just not usually in the empty hallway in front of the Council Towers."

"Right. Only half-crazed women like me do that," you joked back. Turning to your left, you said, "So, Jimmy, how's the weather in Hollywood?"

There was a brief silence in which you assumed he was trying to figure out where Hollywood was. He gave a short laugh, his eyes smiling brightly as he held out a hand. "Tal Dinerek."

You grasped his hand firmly in yours, the calluses beneath your fingers strangely different from Anakin's, yet distinctly familiar. He wasn't a soldier. He was a surgeon, hands soft, cold and firm from holding a scalpel of some kind. You'd know such a kindred spirit anywhere. You introduced yourself with a polite smile.

The Council Towers hadn't changed very much since Anakin was last there. A middle-aged man of about forty-five was sat in the middle of the room, resting his arm on his knee. He gazed out the window overlooking the city far, far below them. As Anakin and the guard entered the room, he glanced up and straightened. Anakin bent swiftly, almost touching his knee to the ground before standing again.

Master Vohotam politely inclined his head. "Now what is this urgent matter, good citizen?"

Anakin took a deep breath. "I'm afraid it's going to sound a bit outrageous, which is why I'm ready and willing to offer evidence."

The man folded his arms over his chest. "All right. Go on then."

"My name is Anakin." He paused, "Anakin Skywalker."

Both Master Vohotam's and the guard's jaws dropped. "What sort of blatant lie is this? General Skywalker died in a mission during the Clone Wars. Everyone knows this!" He exclaimed.

"I know that better than anyone, I'm afraid, and I truly do not know how I came to be here again." Anakin struggled to admit that by all accounts he wasn't supposed to be there. "But, then again, no one ever  _ did _ find his body, correct?"

"I do hope this isn't the only proof you're offering me, young man." The man raised an eyebrow at him.

Anakin suppressed a sigh. "Just find my master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He'll tell you himself."

"I'm afraid that is not possible." Master Vohotam answered with a sigh. "Master Kenobi perished just before we won the war due to a battle wound."

"What?" Anakin couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

_ Obi-Wan? Dead? _ He had come to terms with the fact that he might never see him again —but never because of this. 

"What about my padawan? Ahsoka Tano."

"Nobody knows where she is," the man replied. "She left the Jedi Order and went into exile."

Anakin felt hopeless. All this time yearning for his friends' company, he wished he could see them just one more time. He wished he could've said goodbye. He was taken away from them so suddenly when he got cast to England, now it felt like they got taken away from him all over again.

Just before Anakin had time to conjure up a plan to prove his identity to the man sat before him, the door slid open. 

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Master Vohotam, but since the festivities are about to begin I—" the female voice stopped when Anakin turned around, both of them speechless. "Anakin? Is it really you?"

She looked older —not much, but it was evident that the time that had passed was much more than what Anakin had thought. She must have been in her mid-thirties.

"Hello, Padmé." Anakin gave her a small smile. 

Master Vohotam looked between the two of them. "You know this man, Chancellor Amidala?"

"Why, yes. This is Anakin Skywalker!" She exclaimed as she walked towards her dear friend and gave him a hug, still not quite believing what was happening. "I thought you dead —we all did." Anakin just hummed and hugged her tightly. She pulled back to examine his face. With furrowed brows, she commented, "You look so _young_ ,"

"So how far did you come?" Tal asked, offering you his elbow. You smiled and looped your arm through his, contemplating a snappy comment meant more for Anakin than the kindly man before you, before answering.

"Naboo." You hoped sincerely that was the correct name of the planet Anakin had assigned for you.

"Oh, not too far then. Just on the mid rim." He gave you a curious once-over. "I came from Cantonica myself."

"Oh? How far for you then?" You hoped the innocent question wasn't too ridiculous for a native to this strange galaxy.

"Oh, I don't know anymore. I've been here for so long I simply lost track. The sea just doesn't sit right with me. I'm more of a city person myself," he admitted, holding a dangling ivy back for you to pass beneath.

Nodding your thanks, you said, "Me too. I love to look at the ocean, sit on the beach, picnic in the sand, but I don't like to be out on it."

"Any particular reason?"

You bit your lip. The problem with healers was they tended to be uniquely perceptive. Your brother had always been the same way. "I—I lost someone dear to the sea. My fiancé." Tal looked confused and you rubbed your forehead with thumb and forefinger. "Betrothed," you corrected yourself.

"Ah. I'm sorry." He placed a hand on yours, holding it comfortingly against his arm. You nodded dumbly, your thoughts momentarily consumed with Albert. He'd been such a nice boy. You could have been happy with him. Maybe it wasn't true love, but you weren't naive. Even before you'd joined the military medical team you had seen enough death to know the Grimms had been only half-right. Evil stepmothers were more plentiful than Prince Charmings and the slipper didn't always fit just perfectly. You didn't believe in fairy tales.

You had grown quiet and Tal searched frantically for something to fill the silence with. Spotting an archway tucked behind a leafless bush and wracking his brain for what lay beyond it, he discreetly led you in its direction. "I  _ believe _ there is a white rose garden back in here somewhere. I remember it from the last Winter Festival I attended," he mentioned.

"This time of year?" You asked skeptically.

"Yes. They say that Master Yoda used the Force to grow flowers but he abused it by doing it in winter so he quit doing it, but ever since then pure white roses grow here only in the snow," Tal explained briefly.

The question rolled off your tongue before you could stop it. "Who's Master Yoda?"

Tal stopped mid-step and stared at you. "I thought you said you were from Naboo."

With a wince, you realized your mistake too late. Obviously this Master Yoda was someone everybody knew about. "I am," you scrambled for an excuse, "But my family lives high in the mountains and this is the first time I've ever been down into Coruscant. We don't get a lot of news up there."

"You're dressed awfully cool for the Naboo mountains," Tal pointed out. You glanced down, remembering how out of place you must look amongst the glamorous floor-length dresses.

"Ah… A friend loaned it to me. I'm afraid I clumsily spilt jam on myself this morning and a woman I was staying with had it lying around," you shrugged, hoping to high heaven it sounded natural, "'Tis a strange garment." You covered a chortle with a cough at your own performance.

"I see. But you've truly never heard of Master Yoda? The Force or the Jedi?" Tal couldn't seem to believe it. You shook your head. "Well. That  _ is _ far up in the mountains. Imagine! Never heard of the Jedi!" He murmured mostly under his breath.

You fidgeted, uncomfortable. "Well perhaps you should tell me about them then," you suggested.

"Yes, yes, of course. There's a bench in the garden." He propelled you by your arm into a small courtyard, open to the sky. Snowdrifts lined the carefully scraped stone path. A half dozen rose bushes flourished on one small mound, the delicate veins in their leaves traced in ice. Startlingly white flowers bloomed against the cold backdrop, a shocking blend of the same color.

You gasped. "Oh! They're extraordinary!" You bent to take in the heavenly fragrance of a blossom, delicately holding the petals between your fingers. Tal smiled at your enthusiasm, leading you to a small bench beside the roses.

"So tell me all about these Jedi," you told him, "They sound very dramatic."

"Oh, they are," Tal assured you. So he launched into the grand tale of the Clone Wars, the Jedi Order and their life long fight with the Sith, and how they were able to manipulate the Force —an energy field created by all living things. 

"So are there any famous Jedi?" You asked. 

"Oh, there’s plenty of them; Qui-Gon Jinn, Kit Fisto, Aalya Secura, Anak—" Tal's answer was cut off by the appearance of Padmé Amidala on a balcony just above your heads.

"Welcome to the Winter Festival!" She cried, raising her hands in the air. From the other side of the hedge you and Tal could hear shouts and clapping. "Good people of Coruscant, I have a great announcement; someone to introduce to you all, that is. It is with true honor and joy I present to you my dear friend, General Anakin Skywalker!" Anakin stepped onto the balcony, nodding pleasantly to Padmé. Your jaw dropped, along with those of every being present.

"If I may?" Anakin gestured to the crowd. Padmé bent her head and stepped aside so Anakin could take her place. "People of Coruscant! I know all of you thought me dead, it is a mystery why I was cast away; I am as much in the dark as you. I have no way of knowing what the meaning of the whole ordeal is, though I am sure we shall see soon enough. In the meantime, it is the Winter Festival.” A loud cheer went up from those gathered and they poured into the palace.

Tal placed a hand on your shoulder. "Ah… I suppose we ought to go in then."

You shook yourself, pressing a hand to your forehead, finally coming out of your momentary shock. "That conniving little…" you trailed off.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to kill him! No, no. I'm going to skin him alive and  _ then _ I'm going to kill him!" You burst, storming away to leave a very confused Tal still standing in the rose garden.

You stomped through the halls, following the sounds of the merry people already enjoying winter festivities. Without warning, a door to your left opened abruptly and out stepped Padmé and Anakin. You whirled around, grinding your teeth.

"Anakin Skywalker! You barmy idiot! What do you think you're doing pretending to be a Jedi Knight?" You scolded angrily. Noticing Padmé standing just behind him you acknowledged, "Good day, ma'am. Skywalker—"

Anakin grimaced and excused himself, taking you by the arm and pulling you aside out of earshot. "(y/n), I am not _pretending _ and I'll thank you not to say so again! I'm going to have a tough enough time convincing these people. Padmé was no problem at all, she's one of my closest friends, but everyone else…"

"Anakin, you are not a Jedi! And you're certainly not a war general! Besides, the Clone Wars lasted so long, it's impossible it could've been you."

"Why, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Anakin retorted with sarcasm. "Besides, that's becau—"

Padmé placed a hand on Anakin's arm, interrupting him. "I'm sorry, Anakin, but is there a problem here?" She glanced at you suspiciously. You heaved a sigh.

"No, no. No problem. This is (y/n). She's a friend of mine," Anakin ground out, "Just a little misunderstanding."

"(y/n)!" All three of you looked up to find Tal sprinting down the hall towards you. He skidded to a stop.

Anakin's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"Tal Dinerek. (y/n), you said you'd never heard of the Jedi!"

You sighed. "I hadn't. Look, Tal. It's a long story." Turning to Anakin you said, "I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm confused and I'm freezing to death. If I had any idea where to go in this blasted castle I'd take care of myself, but I don't and you seem to. So lead the way." You made a sweeping gesture with your hand.

Padmé chuckled, realizing just how odd the situation was. "You can take your old quarters, Anakin, and the Green Room will suit you just fine, I'm sure, my lady."

"Thank you. It sounds wonderful." Glancing at Tal's rather pathetic face, you bit the inside of your cheek. "Tal, I'm dreadfully sorry but I really need to get cleaned up."

Anakin wrapped an arm around your shoulders, turning you away from the doctor. "She'll see you around." He gave a tight-lipped smile and marched you down the hall.

"Anakin, I can speak for myself!" You pulled from his grasp, waving a hand at him.

"You met this man, what? Twenty minutes ago?"

"What do you care?"

Anakin grumbled to himself but didn't answer. He led you up three exhausting flights of stairs and through so many twisting hallways you knew you' d never be able to find your way back without him. The thought set fire to the tips of your every nerve; you vowed to learn your way around quickly so you wouldn't have to depend on him. With a start, you realized you were beginning to think like you weren't leaving, at least not any time soon. You harshly blinked back tears at the very idea of never seeing Margaret or Richard or your mum and dad again. Anakin came to an abrupt halt, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Here you go. I'll arrange to have some fresh dresses sent up for you," he said mildly.

"And they'll just magically fit?" You couldn't help snapping.

Anakin grinned wickedly. "Don't worry. I've always had an eye for sizes."

You flushed but looked him square in the eye, determined not to let him get ahead in your ongoing battle of—  _ battle of the sexes,_ Margaret's voice grinned in your head. You matched his bold smile with one of your own. "You sure you don't need a good look before you go?" You spun on one foot, holding your hands up in a model's pose. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at your sudden audacity.

"I could use a couple, actually." He tossed the return innuendo over his shoulder as he headed back the way you'd come to his own room. 

You watched him until he disappeared around the bend in the curved hall, more than just your lips, but your soul as well, touched with his vibrancy and charm caught somewhere between boyish and manly. Again you contemplated how easily his moods swung from irritable and angry to noble and self-sacrificing to roguish and teasing and back again. Shaking your head, you pressed the button that opened the door and, not for the first time that day, gasped at the pure and natural opulence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I have mentioned Anakin and Padmé never were a thing in this story? Probably. Oh well.
> 
> I've actually given it a lot of thought and as I was planning this story I couldn't figure out what to do. But I guess it makes sense they never dated, because otherwise I don't think Anakin would've been able to move on from their relationship (given his rather strong attachment to his life in Coruscant) and, therefore, it would've been way too hard for him to just get over Padmé and fall for the reader. 
> 
> It's okay if you don't like that I changed way too many things— I totally understand :) but I do hope you enjoyed this just as much as I'm enjoying writing it.


	6. Sand in an Hourglass

An armoire stood against one wall and a vanity sat across from it beside the bed. Noticing the stoneware bowl and pitcher on the vanity, you gently stepped around the bed to it. You poured a little water in the bowl and splashed it on your face, eager to scrub off the layers of dirt.

Satisfied, you straightened and wiped the water from your face with a fresh green cloth. You glanced around, taking in your surroundings. The four-poster bed came up to your waist and there was even a small stepstool at the end. Green gossamer tied off to finials on each post acted as the canopy and the fabric trailed down on the sides, nearly to the floor, creating a half-sheer curtain around the bed. You brushed the curtain back and ran your fingers over the comforter, green-gold silk inviting you just to rest your head. Giving in, you nimbly undid the buttons down the front of your uniform and tossed it and Anakin's cardigan to the floor. Clad in only a strappy, white cotton slip, you kicked off your shoes and lifted yourself onto the bed, collapsing into the comfortable oasis of pillows. Your eyes were barely closed before you were sound asleep.

The sun set, the moon rose and snow began gently falling again. After eight knocks, Anakin began wondering if you were even  _ in  _ the room. He pushed the button that swung the door open, squinted, adjusting his eyes to the dark, and spotted your slumbering form on the bed. Anakin silently padded across the room and lifted the gossamer so he could see you better. His eyes swept over you, something in his chest tightening at the curves no longer hidden by a nondescript uniform.

He reached out  almost involuntarily to trail his finger across the milky skin of your calf, softly calling your name as he did, "Wake up…" you moaned and nestled deeper into your pillows, so he tried again, this time moving his hand up your thigh to your waist. He murmured your name again, leaning closer.

Your eyelids fluttered open and you peered up at him through sleep-crowded eyes. With a groan that took what little breath there was left in his lungs after the sight of you, you rolled onto your back and stretched, arms over your head and toes curled in that womanly way you had. His fingers kneaded at your hip but you weren’t awake enough yet to scold him or brush him away. You rubbed at your eye with your left hand, attempting to focus, physically and mentally, but the weighted touch of Anakin's hand on your side was keeping coherency from intruding.

"(y/n)..." It was less of a whisper than a strangled, longing call and his eyes were burning again. Your breath hitched as his face twisted into that of the angry, mad-at-the-world boy you'd first met. Tears stung your eyes, something telling you the longing was less for you than it was for this place. He didn't want to miss it again; didn't want to feel that pain. He was already dreading England. You ran your fingers through his hair, just above his ear, while the other hand gently caressed his where it rested on your hip.

"Anakin, I—" a knock at the door interrupted you and he pulled away slightly.

"That'll be the maid with your things," he said quietly, moving away from the bed to answer the door. The handmaid seemed a bit surprised to see him in the dark in your room but seeing as who he was, she wisely kept her mouth shut. She bustled into the room, lighting several candles that bathed you all in shimmering gold, and then began placing dresses from a large basket in the armoire.

"I'll just wait outside for you." He gestured to the door. You met his eyes through the gossamer, straining to see blue through the green. You swallowed hard and nodded, wondering where your insistence to Margaret and yourself that he was just a boy had gone.

"Would you like me to pick out a dress for you, miss?" You jumped at the lyrical sound of the handmaiden's voice.

"Um, sure. What time does dinner start?" You asked, assuming that was what you were headed down for.

"Fifteen minutes, miss," the handmaid informed you. You slid off the bed, glancing in the vanity mirror. You ran your fingers through your hair, fluffing it up in your usual manner. The maid held out a relatively simple, burgundy dress to you, along with a corset and a chemise. You took the dress but shook your head at the others. The handmaid looked confused, so you explained.

"I already have unmentionables. Don't worry. I won't be scandalous," you winked. Thankfully, no one would have to know. The girl nodded her understanding and tucked the undergarments onto a shelf before quietly shutting the door.

"Will you be needing anything else, miss?" She inquired, her hands folded demurely in front of her.

"No, that will be all. Thank you," you said, "What's your name?"

"Salia, miss."

"What a lovely name. Will I see you in the morning?"

"Yes, miss." You smiled and the girl matched it as she backed out of the room. You adjusted the straps of your bra and slip and pulled the dress over your head. It fell gracefully around your curves, melding to you as though it had been tailored exactly to your form. You twisted and turned, inspecting your appearance. Raising an eyebrow at yourself in the mirror, you allowed an impish smirk. "I guess he really is good with sizes."

"I told you so." You gasped to find Anakin's reflection in your mirror. You spun around, your tightly sleeved arms clutched to your stomach.

"For heaven's sake, Skywalker, what happened to waiting outside?" You exclaimed.

He pouted, grasping your upper arms in his hands. "Back to Skywalker? And here I thought we were finally getting on swimmingly."

"Swimmingly?  _Swimmingly_? My god, Anakin, what would fighting like cats and dogs have looked like then?" Your eyes widened in disbelief as you shrugged out of his touch. His arms fell to his elegantly clad sides and he made to stuff them in his pockets before remembering he didn't have any.

"You do look lovely," his voice softened as he spoke and he glanced to the floor briefly, "Even if you don't have an 18-inch waist like those damnable corsets give you."

Youswatted his arm as you moved past him, your skirt rustling between his legs. "I don't have the energy to try and put that thing on," you confessed, "And, besides, I don't much want my pancreas squeezed up into my lungs."

"Only a nurse…" Anakin teased. You picked your uniform and the cardigan off the ground, laying them on the bed. You began rummaging through the pockets and finally emerged with a compact and a tube of lipstick. Settling yourself at the vanity, you snapped open the compact and rubbed a bit of rouge on your cheeks with your fingertips. Anakin watched your ministrations with little interest, but when you popped off the lid of the lipstick he moved to place his hands on your shoulders. You stopped with the color halfway to your lips.

"No lipstick." Anakin turned a pathetically adorable pout on you.

"What? Now you're my fashion and cosmetics consultant?" You sniped.

"Not at all. I just have a distaste for it. My foster sister always wears too much."

You studiously ignored the gentle kneading of his fingers on the skin at the base of you neck. "So I can't wear any?"

Anakin leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear, keeping eye contact in the mirror. "You're far too beautiful already," he whispered. Shivering, you slowly lowered the tube and placed the cap back on it. His hands slid over your shoulders and gave a light squeeze on your arms before he straightened, glancing out to the balcony in an attempt to conceal the embarrassment plain on his features.

You toyed with the lipstick a moment, lost in your thoughts. Finally, running your fingers through your curls one last time, you stood. "All right. Let's go." Anakin hurried from the room, almost as though he were escaping. Only what, you weren't sure.

You weren't expecting a feast, but when you stopped to think about it, it  _ was _ the first day of this Winter Festival. Ten thirty-foot banquet tables were already mostly full of guests when you arrived. You stifled a gasp at the dining hall, its decorations having far outdone those you had seen so far. Drapes of berry red hung floor to ceiling and lights twinkled far above your heads. Upon closer inspection, you realized them to be fireflies, flitting merrily back and forth. So intent were you on the intoxicating sights that you barely registered the announcement of General Anakin Skywalker and Lady (y/n). You did manage to notice when the entire room got to its feet and offered bows, curtsies and applause.

Anakin took it all in stride as though this were an everyday occurrence. Only when he elbowed you in the ribs did you realize you were gawking. Pasting a smile on your face, you let him lead you down the sweeping steps and between the tables to the dais at the far end of the room. Padmé and her husband sat on elaborate gold-leaf chairs behind a table adorned with the evening's main course. Anakin made a respectful gesture with his hand on his forehead and he gracefully elbowed you until you curtsied. The Chancellor and her husband returned the gestures and they resumed their seats with dignity. The rest of the hall followed suit and Padmé motioned for you to join her and her husband in two waiting seats on the dais. Anakin stepped aside for you, but you stared at him wide-eyed.

"I'm up there? In front of everyone?" You frantically remembered a terrifying case of stage fright at your first ballet recital as a little girl.

Anakin rolled his eyes, his ever-present, good-natured smile keeping up appearances. "Of  _ course _ you're up there. They think you're the General's lady."

You puffed up, filling with annoyance at the insinuation. "I thought the Jedi weren't allowed to form attachments," you reasoned, recalling what Tal had told you about the Jedi. 

"Yes, well,  _ technically_, I'm no longer a Jedi."

"How come?"

"I left the Order," he simply answered. "After I proved my identity to Master Vohotam, I let him know of my desire to leave the Order." He explained as you walked over to them. "I've been pondering on that for quite a while, you know, before I was cast to England. I'd decided I'd leave once the war was over but, well, you know the rest."

Once you got there, Anakin held his place with such an air you almost laughed out loud, picturing this scene back home at mealtime with him in his tattered green cardigan and something resembling pea soup on the menu. The Chancellor raised a large glass bell and rang it twice. The assembled masses quickly quieted, all hungry from their journeys.

Padmé raised her goblet in toast to her husband, Anakin and you and you did the same.

After each had had a sip of their wine, she spoke, "Anakin, Lady (y/n), this is my husband, Stilian." You both nodded, murmuring your 'how do you dos'.

Stilian took a chunk of food from the end of his dinner dagger and, swallowing, asked, "How are you enjoying your stay, Lady (y/n)?"

You covered your mouth with the back of your fingers as you too swallowed. Smiling brightly, you replied, "Oh it's been just lovely! Coruscant's quite something." Anakin eyed you warily, afraid of what you might add to that, but it seemed you truly was as awed as anyone else. It was only him you weren't impressed by.

Nodding, Stilian took a sip from his wine. "I remember the first time I came to Coruscant. Oh, I fell in love with it in an instant."

"Where do you hail from?" Anakin piped up.

"Alderaan," Padmé answered for him.

"Ah, it's been many years since I was on Alderaan."

"I haven't been there since I arrived in Coruscant six years ago," Stilian admitted.

Anakin raised an eyebrow at Padmé. "Kidnapping yourself a husband, Padmé?" You elbowed him in the side. Stilian giggled at his wife's blush.

"No, more… I became too comfortable and wouldn't leave so she figured the only way to get me out of her hair was to marry me," he teased. Stilian leaned over, placing a playful kiss on her cheek. You and Anakin looked on, you the only two feeling the air grow heavy and awkward. You both glanced nervously to your plates, focusing intently on your suppers.

It was late that evening and most had retired to the 'village' of elaborate tents that had been erected in the orchards and fields in the Jedi Temple Arboretum. Stilian, Padmé, Anakin, you and a generous handful of politicians and nobles remained in the dining hall. You now sat at one of the impossibly long banquet tables, the dais abandoned for less pretentious seats. Those left were close to the Chancellor, less subjects than dear friends.

"General?" Someone asked. 

"How about just Anakin? After all, I'm not exactly a Jedi Knight anymore." Anakin suggested. 

"But you're still a general! A war hero!"

Anakin chuckled at that. "Anakin will do in friendly company." Everyone seemed a bit unsettled by the idea but accepted his approval. "What were you going to say?"

"I was wondering if you might grace us with stories of the Clone Wars," he asked, suddenly a bit shy.

"But of course! I'm beginning to think storytelling is the only reason I'm here," he tacked the last on under his breath so only you caught it. You pursed your lips, wondering if you were finally going to find out what was going on underneath Anakin's happy, war hero façade.

Anakin had always understood the art of a story, his love of words and the way they weave together far different from other people's clinical view. He had never been much of a speller, but he mixed words and phrases with the ease of a master chef in his kitchen. A dash of this, a pinch of that and never measuring a thing. He captivated his audience with tales of the Clone Wars and his late master Obi-Wan. His stories flowed together without breaks between and while the snow piled up outside, the group drained two pitchers of wine.

Noticing how dark it was and how late it must have become, you glanced at your watch before remembering it was a completely different world and the time was likely to be different. Still, it read past one in the morning and you couldn't be  _ that _ far off. You were just about to comment on getting to bed when Padmé gasped.

"My goodness, it's late!" She pointed to the elaborately marked hourglass in front of one of the tall, stained-glass windows. It's steady flow of sand meant nothing to you, but you could see everyone else quickly realize how long they had been mesmerized by the rise and fall of Anakin's voice. One by one they stood, thanking the legend for his storytelling and saying their goodnights.

Anakin stretched in a comfortable, relaxed movement that you noticed from the corner of your eye as you returned Padmé's friendly wish of pleasant dreams. Hours before, a waiter had brought out refreshments for the lingering festival-goers and been asked to stay. Now he rose, taking the tray with him, but not anticipating Anakin absent-mindedly standing in the doorway to the kitchen stairway. The two collided with the sterling silver platter hitting Anakin in the chest. He gasped, one hand clutching his bruised ribs and the other reaching blindly for support. It came first in the form of the doorjamb but his hand slid down the slick wood so he lost his balance and nearly tumbled to the floor. You were around the table in seconds, instincts kicking in. He swallowed hard and his breath came in short, hard bursts, but you could tell he wanted you to downplay it to the others.

Everyone clustered around you, concern pressing in. You ignored them, your eyes boring deep into Anakin's, the color and depth for once not distracting you. He silently communicated through the squeeze he gave your shoulder that he was certainly not okay but through his stare that he could manage to pretend.

"General Skywalker! I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there! Oh how stupid of me!" The man rambled, pressing his hands to his cheeks in dismay.

"Don't worry. I was in the way. It wasn't your fault," Anakin reassured him.

"Are you all right?" Stilian asked, his voice laced with worry.

Anakin waved the question off with one hand as you swung his arm around your shoulders so you could support him. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Battle wound, is all."

"Battle? Is there fighting in your land?" A voice piped up.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. If you please, I need to get him—" you began but Stilian jumped in again, cutting you off.

"We must get you to a healer, General!" It seemed the title had been reinstated despite possible confusions. You grit your teeth, but silently acknowledged Stilian didn't know you had trained at one of the best women's medical schools in Europe. He didn't even know what Europe was.

"That won't be necessary—" again, you were cut off, only this time by Anakin.

"That's all right. (y/n) here is a nurse." At the confused looks all around, he amended, "A healer." Heads were nodded and people stepped back so the two could pass through.

"Is there anything you'll be needing, Lady (y/n)?" Padmé inquired.

"Warm water and fresh bandages, thank you." You imagined it would remain strange to hear 'lady' before your name, but you shrugged it off, your focus on taking care of Anakin. The Chancellor nodded, bustling down to the kitchens to kindly take care of the errand herself. Stilian dispersed the group, saying he would be sure to inform them of the General's condition in the morning. You tightened your grip on the back of Anakin's navy tunic as you helped him walk to the doors. You understood his need to retain dignity, especially if he really was this famous Jedi Knight, but he was making it very difficult on you both. He bowed slightly at the door before you managed to drag him from the hall. Rounding the corner and pausing at the base of the first flight of stairs, you huffed.

"Who's brilliant idea was it to put us on the third floor?" You groaned. 

"There's an elevator, but it's further away now," Anakin snapped, his free hand still clenching at his ribs. Your face softened and you sighed. So you began hauling him up the stairs, one painful step at a time.

It seemed a century before you finally reach the last red velvet-covered stair and you both sagged with relief at the top, leaning heavily on a combination of the railing and each other. Breathing heavily with your head resting in the crook of his neck and your arms wrapped one around his waist so you could grip the banister and the other partially around his back, Anakin caught a whiff of that heavenly lavender perfume you seemed to have always hovering around you. A few strands of hair brushed his cheek and he felt the stirring somewhere in his abdomen he hadn't felt in a long time. You had really been something and never had he met anyone that could set his skin on fire the way you had. Yet here he was with a lovely Brit in his arms, emotions clawing at the surface. Anakin took a deep breath and steadied himself as you drew away. He hoped you couldn't see what he was desperately sure was obvious he was feeling but your face showed nothing but exhaustion.

"Come on, soldier boy. Let's get you fixed up," you almost whispered, slinging his arm back over your shoulder so you could make your way down the hall to his room.

Pushing the door open with your backside and turning to let Anakin in, you gasped. "My god! Is each room in this place bigger than the last?"

Anakin chuckled through his pain, heaving himself gingerly onto the bed. "Imagine this place to the eye of a nine-year-old kid."

You eyed him carefully, grateful the bandages and water had already been placed on the bed table. He stripped his tunic off, leaving him only in a pair of tight, black breeches before settling back against the mountain of pillows. You undid the dressing you'd put on early that morning when you were still in England and tossed the bloody gauze into an empty bowl. Not until you were cleaning the fresh blood inflicted by the silver tray from his chest, did you speak. "There's something I still don’t get."

"What?" Anakin grimaced as blood oozed onto your finger and you wiped it off on the old bandage.

"Lord, we must have just disappeared! I wonder who saw. They all must be so worried we'd been kidnapped or something dreadful!" Satisfied with your work, you set to redressing the wound.

Anakin started to answer with confusion but the lines in his face smoothed with realization. "Oh, (y/n). I've been such an ass." Your eyes widened at his confession and the touch of his hand on your cheek. Sighing, he explained, "Before I got cast to London the Clone Wars had only been going on for about a year. I've only been in England for two years, yet I come back here and find out the war had not only lasted for five other years, but that it has ended a little more than two years ago."

Your brow wrinkled as you finished the dressing and twisted so you were leaning on the edge of the bed. Running your fingers over the paisley patterned bedspread, you asked, "What do you mean?"

"For me, I've only been gone two years. But for everyone here, I've been gone seven. Time passes differently here. See, no matter how long we stay here, only seconds will pass there."

Your eyes widened in comprehension. "So no one will even know we were gone?"

He nodded, reaching for your hand without thinking. "Exactly. I should have told you that days ago. That must be what you've been so worried about."

You watched as he wound his fingers between yours, not once even realizing what he was doing.

"I'm sorry I said you were immature," you began but rephrased, "No, I'm not. You are. But I'm sorry I said it without knowing anything about you."

"Mmm. Gee, thanks." His voice was softer all of a sudden and you knew he'd realized what you were letting him do. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, gently pulling you closer. Your eyes remained on your hands, picking out his years of scars you had never noticed before. Knowing what you did, it was obvious. You had seen it in him that very first day. That elusive something you hadn't been able to put your finger on. Now you knew. It was experience. By the way he was subtly shifting toward you and his hand was straying up your arm, it was experience he was willing to share with you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he warmed your cheek with his palm. A refusal was on the tip of your tongue or a biting remark to discourage him, but his lips met yours before you could voice either. It was soft but not really tender. He parted your lips and you were sure he could taste the denial you'd been about to give him. You wanted to fight him, to tell him no, but with his warm lips against your own all you could do was give in. Surrender. Albert had never kissed you like that. It had always been polite and chaste. Just once you wanted to feel what all the giddy schoolgirls had always swooned over. You wanted what Anakin could give you; what it seemed he wanted you to have. 

Common sense took over and you pulled away, banishing those wants. _This was Anakin, for heaven's sake!_ He may have been a legend to everyone else in the palace, but to you he was just an overly-stubborn man with a misplaced sense of duty and honor, you reminded yourself firmly.

You stood and gathered the bowls on the nightstand. "You can put them outside the door. A maid'll get them in the morning," Anakin murmured, stilling propped forward on his elbow.

Closing the door you whispered a good night you were sure he didn't hear and deposited the bowls of bloody water and bandages on the floor. Wandering to your room, however, your fingers touched your lips and all those wants flooded back. And that had been far from an honorable kiss. With a ghost of a smile, brought on again by Anakin's audacity, you fell to sleep on top of the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop! First kiss!


	7. The Night Before

You awoke with a blush on your cheeks, your goodnight kiss the first thing to pop into your mind. You could still feel Anakin's lips as keenly as though he were right there and your dreams had done nothing to lessen the fog enveloping your common sense. It had to be this place. You never behaved this way in England even when you'd  been in a romantic relationship. You shook your head to clear it, dragging yourself from the all-too-comfortable bed at a knock on the door. You stepped over your puddled, burgundy gown and Anakin's cardigan, which seemed to have slipped from the bed the night before, to answer it.

Salia beamed, a tray of breakfast in her arms. "Milady," she greeted.

You ran a hand over your face and through your hair. "Salia. Come in." Salia stepped inside, quickly setting the tray on a small table by the balcony and hurrying to straighten up the room. She folded Anakin's cardigan and put it on a shelf in the armoire, along with the dress.

You yawned. "What's happening today, Salia?" You asked, hungrily setting to the eggs on your plate.

"The archery tournament is starting, miss. Will you be attending with the General?" You made a noncommittal sound that Salia took as a 'yes.' 

"Archery tournament?" You asked aloud, archery seemed too ancient for such a modern place. "I never thought such old-fashioned activities were held here."

"They only are during the Winter Festival," Salia answered. "The Winter Festival holds all kinds of traditional activities. People even set up tents in the Jedi temple arboretum, which is really nice, because Coruscant is just one big city, so I always appreciate a little green." She offered you a smile, "Of course, there's the lightsaber duel tournament towards the end of the festival, which I'd say is the most modern activity."

You just nodded and stayed silent, not being able to stop thinking about a certain former Jedi.

"Would you like me to pick out a gown for you, miss?" Salia asked after a few moments of silence.

"No, that's all right. I'll do it. Thank you, Salia." Salia took in your mood, for as the effects of your dreams had worn off you had grown irritable and lost in thought. The woman curtsied and made her exit to leave you in peace.

Throwing open the stately armoire, you gasped. You hadn't realized how many dresses Anakin had ordered for you. There were at least fifteen different gowns of various fabrics and colors. You ran your fingers over the velvets and silks, taking solace in a woman's indulgences and pushing away those of a woman  _ and _ a man.

Anakin knocked hesitantly on your door and was met by a grunt he sincerely hoped was welcoming. Still, he ducked warily as he entered, afraid you might throw something at him. You had remained relatively calm last night but, then, you had had plenty of time to mull over his actions. A small voice tartly pointed out they were _your_ actions as well and he was forced to remember the way you'd let him in without thought, not to mention the taste and feel of your lips between his own. Anakin rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger, a headache sneaking up on him.

You stood in the middle of the room, your fingers threaded through your hair, in only your slip. "You're not even dressed yet! What have you been  doing all morning?"

"I don't know what to wear," you whined, "I've got it down to three, but I just don't know." Anakin rolled his eyes and pulled the chair away from the vanity.

"Show me." You stared at him, confused. "Come on! What are you waiting for? I've been friends with Padmé long enough to know I've probably picked out more dresses than Corin ever took off. And that's saying something."

You stared a moment longer, the innuendo confusing but not shocking you. Shrugging, you picked a green dress and slipped it over your head. Holding the laces tight with one hand, you twirled. "Yes? No?"

Anakin contemplated the dress a moment, rubbing a knuckle across his bottom lip. "If you're wearing those shoes it'll be too short." He nodded to the ankle boots sitting by the bed. You glanced between him, the shoes and your hem.

"Oh. I hadn't even thought of that," you mumbled, letting go of the laces so you could step out of it. Anakin hid a grin behind his hand as you went for a pale blue one. It wasn't too formal and had a navy peasant bodice that laced in back.

"That one. Let's go." He stood, tossing you the matching bag from the vanity.

"But what about the white one?" You protested, catching it easily.

"This one's fine." Gesturing to the laces you still held in your hand, he said, "Do you need help?"

With a glance over your shoulder, you nodded. He abruptly settled his hands on your waist, turning you so your back was to him. His hands instantly felt like they were on fire and he wondered if you could feel it or if it was all in his head. He quickly threaded the white leather laces through the small holes. He had years of experience at this, but, still, it was different than tightening Padmé's bodice.

"You might want to hold on," he said as he reached the top. You shot him a glare over your shoulder and he shrugged. "It's your pancreas." He teased. Grudgingly, you wrapped your hands around the bedpost. He knotted the leather around his fingers and pulled.

"Anakin!" You gasped, one hand flying to your considerably smaller waistline.

"Oh relax; it's not even that tight. Come on. We're going to be late." He grabbed your hand and practically dragged you from the room.

You were uncomfortable. The archery was fascinating, to be sure, and the colorful gowns and hats decorating the stands were extravagant. It wasn't the event, however, that had you fidgeting in your seat. It was the people you sat with. Anakin was on your right and Stilian and Padmé beside him. You all sat in a large box raised above the tournament grounds. The snow-covered field below you was dotted with targets and the four chatted amongst themselves as they watched arrow after arrow land in the center red. Padmé was awed by the costumes of the visiting people and 'oohed' and 'aahed' over each of them. Stilian's eyes never left her, his hand gently caressing hers and a small smile on his face as though she were the light of his world. You swallowed hard as you saw him lean in for a soft kiss.

Anakin watched you from the corner of his eye, shifting, straightening your dress. You folded your hands, then changed your mind and rested them on the arms of the chair. Reaching out a hand, he gently caught your arm. "Hey. Are you all right?"

You looked up sharply at him. "Yes, of course. Why?"

His brow knit together in some sort of concern. "You just seem a bit uncomfortable, that's all."

You sighed. "I feel like an intruder," you confessed, subtly nodding in the direction of the Chancellor and her husband.

Anakin slid his hand down your arm to place it over yours. His fingers dove between yours so they brushed the soft, tender skin there and curled your hand into his own. "No need. They're lost in their own little world. I don't think you could disturb them if you set off a whole row of roman candles along that railing there."

You chuckled, a small grin spreading across your face. "No, I suppose not." You glanced up at him but didn't meet his eyes, choosing a spot over his shoulder to stare at instead.

Anxiously, he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he whispered out your name. "I—"

"You know, I'm afraid I don't much understand how this tournament works. It seems to me they're  _ all _ hitting the targets," you interjected, pretending you hadn't heard him. Anakin let out a frustrated rush of air through his nose but set about explaining the rules to you anyway.

It was hours later and dusk had begun to fall on the crowd. You clapped along with the others at a particularly splendid shot but your enthusiasm was waning. You were sore from sitting most of the day and wearing the unfamiliar corset all of it. Anakin had eased your concerns regarding your family's worries about you the night before but, of course, his comforts had brought on a whole new set of stressful contemplations.  


At least it seemed you would soon get your pined-for silence and solitude as supper was to be a quiet affair. You fully intended upon taking your meal in your rooms and following up with a soothing bath. Perhaps the relaxing combination would let you forget Anakin and home for at least a little while. Lady Fate, that most fickle of friends, intervened at precisely the wrong moment, however, and ruined your chances of a pleasantly lonely night.

You heard your name being called out in the distance, making you squeeze your eyes shut, willing away a headache before it started. You turned from your place halfway across the field back to the palace to find Tal skidding to a stop in the snow. He reached out to steady himself, catching your shoulder.

"Hello, Tal," you greeted courteously.

"Good evening! I wondered if you didn't already have plans for supper?" He inquired, releasing you.

"Well, I—"

"I thought perhaps you would join me?" He added unnecessarily, cutting short what would have been a polite rejection.

"We'd love to, Mr. Dinerek!" Anakin chimed suddenly, causing you to jump as he rested his hand against the small of your back. "It is Dinerek, isn't it?" You fought the urge to roll your eyes at his blatant mispronunciation.

"Actually, the 'i' is short," Tal corrected him, respectfully quiet. Anakin apologized, too sincere to truly be.

"I'm sure (y/n) will want to change first, so we'll be a little while, I'm afraid. You'll wait?"

Tal grit his teeth, unable to refuse the legendary Jedi. "Of course. I would be honored." With a final bow to the two of you, he spun on his heel in irritation and marched in the direction of the tents. You mirrored the action as you set off for the palace, your step and stance angry.

Jogging to catch up, Anakin started to ask what he'd done wrong or some equally patronizing question but you held up a hand. "Don't  _ even_! That invitation was for me and me only, Anakin! Where do you get off thinking you can  _ do _ that?" You demanded, never pausing to look at him as you strode.

"Oh, come on now! You—"

"It was a personal invitation and you had no right to step in like that!"

"You aren't naive enough to think he just wanted supper and deep conversation, are you?"

You stopped stock-still and slowly turned to face him. For a moment you stared as though you couldn't quite find the right words to throw at him. "No, Anakin, I'm not. In fact, I was going to turn him down until you took the wheel. Though, granted, that was more because of you than him. But you've just changed my mind. I think I do want a little  _ 'supper and deep conversation' _ tonight. Thank you, Anakin," you smirked. You started to walk away but turned back. "Oh and don't bother changing. I don't think we'll miss you."

You held your purple skirts up to avoid dragging them across the snow-covered floor as you made your way to the mass of tents set in the garden behind the palace. A few individuals recognized you as having sat with the Chancellor and the Jedi at supper the night before and acknowledged you as such but you went virtually unnoticed as you searched for Tal. It occurred to you more than once you should have asked the surgeon where his tent was, but the thought inevitably turned to Anakin so you quickly shoved it aside. Looking up at the names on the side of each tent instead of in front of you, you soon tripped. You gasped, barely steadying yourself before hitting the ground. You glanced up at the cause of your mishap and blushed.

"Hello, Alp," you greeted him. He grinned toothily at you.

"Hello yourself. I told you you weren't from Naboo."

"Yes, well, I already knew that. But would you really have accepted I was from another planet from another galaxy without thinking me insane?  _ I  _ think I'm insane. For instance, I'm standing here in the middle of an orchard after an argument with an idiotic Jedi and his ego, talking to a creature I've never heard of before!"

"If it were anybody else, I'd take offense. Now, what were you doing looking at the sky instead of your feet?"

You sighed. "I'm looking for a friend's tent and I'm afraid I forgot to ask directions."

"A friend?"

"Tal Dinerek. He's a surgeon from some planet —Cantonica, or something like that," you explained.

You heard footsteps behind you and glanced over your shoulder at the mention of your name.

"Tal! I was looking all over for you," you admitted, turning to face him.

"As was I for you. I realized after my quick departure that I had forgotten to tell you where I would be." Tal glanced over your shoulder and frowned as Alp walked away, leaving you alone. "I thought General Skywalker had planned to join us?"

You bit back a smirk, a retort and a sigh. "He had," you said simply, leaving the explanation up to your host's imagination.

Tal eyed you a moment before a rueful smile appeared on his face. He offered you his arm and you curtsied dramatically before taking it, drawing a deep chuckle from him. With an effort you ignored, you pushed Anakin from your mind, intent on having a good time.

The meal was simple but you couldn't deny he was an excellent cook. Tal's tent was made of the same ivory burlap most were made of but had a hole cut in the very top of the ceiling so he could have a campfire inside. A pair of chairs sat beside a trunk multi-tasking as a desk and table and a sturdy cot occupied one wall. Most of the snow on the grass had been brushed outside so the tent had a floor of pure green. You ate in a companionable silence for most of the meal but finally Tal spoke up.

Clearing his throat, he asked with trepidation, "Lady (y/n), I fear I must ask a terrible question to satisfy my sensibilities." You raised an eyebrow but motioned for him to continue. He nervously chewed on the end of his fork. "Are you and— am I— the General—"

You bit your lip. "You're not stealing Anakin's girl. I promise."

Tal sagged with relief. "I was beginning to fear for my neck," he admitted with a hoarse laugh.

Smirking, you placed your hand over his. "Don't worry. He's mostly bark."

"But he's still one of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy."

"You know what? I don't really want to talk about Anakin. Do you mind?"

Tal turned his attention on the remainder of his supper. "Did you enjoy the archery today?" You smiled at his easy transition and nodded.

You talked well into the night about everything under the sun —or moon as it was— over steaming cups of tea. Not once did anything remotely Anakin-related come up nor did he cross your mind. It was a wonderful sort of freedom not thinking about him. It seemed over the past few days he was all that had occupied your thoughts. Suddenly realizing the fire had almost gone out, Tal glanced at the hourglass and gasped.

"Goodness, it's late!" You looked at the sand, almost through trickling down and at your watch, which read three o'clock.

"Oh my, so it is. I guess I should be going. People will talk as it is," you joked grudgingly, standing and brushing off your skirts.

Tal stood and offered his hand. "Would you like me to walk you back to the palace?"

"No, no, that's all right. I  _ think _ I can find my way." You smiled as he took your hand and bent to kiss it.

"Well, in that case, good night and sweet dreams. Surely mine will be filled with you." You smirked at the slight tickle of his lips on your fingers and when he stood to pull away you tightened your grip. 

With his hand in yours, you gently pulled him toward you. You tilted your chin up to him and, swallowing hard, he placed his hands on your cheeks. It was a faint brush, the lightest of touches, and then he was pulling away. So unlike Anakin's thorough invasion. Your thoughts unwillingly flickered to the taste of him. The sensual caress of his lips on your own and the heady feeling of a paralyzed mind… your eyes drifted shut in pleasure for a brief moment and you murmured a "thank you" before you snapped to your senses. Tal had dropped his hands to his sides and stepped away from you.

"I should go," you half-whispered, reaching for your bag. Tal nodded shortly but caught your arm as you passed him.

"Are you sure you and the General…" you pursed your lips and sniffed.

"I can assure you General Skywalker has no romantic interest in me." You couldn't meet his eyes, certain he would read your turmoil. Instead your gaze roved to the makeshift table and his mostly empty wine goblet. With shaking hands you lifted it to your lips and gulped down the remainder of the bitter liquid before turning and marching swiftly from the tent and into the cold night.

You dragged yourself up the stairs one exhausting step at a time. You came to a stop at the last one and sank onto it. Closing your eyes, you leaned against the railing and let your head fall into your hands. Your hair streamed through your fingers in loose chunks, covering your face. You were startled from your quiet introspect by a grunt. Looking up sharply, you noticed Anakin for the first time, sitting on the floor beside your room. His head lolled to one side, jolting him awake. He groaned, slowly focusing on you, kitty-corner to him.

He blinked so there was only one of you and then glanced at the large clock on the wall opposite the grand staircase. Anakin gasped and flipped his head around to stare wide-eyed at you.

"It's three in the morning!" He murmured.

"Yeah, I know."

Anakin took a shaky deep breath and let it out. He glanced at the floor between you. "Lucky you." You glared and threw your bag at him. It bounced off his knees and he caught it in one hand. "What? You come in at three in the morning and expect me to believe you didn't get lucky?"

"Yes, Anakin, I do. Because believe it or not, there are men out there who can talk to a woman and not just push her up against a wall."

"Really? And here I thought we were all—"

You held up a hand. " _You _ are." You sat there, staring at each other, the ticking of the monstrous clock on the wall the only sound. "You waited here all night for me?"

He nodded. "I did."

You looked away, unable to bear his face, for the candles threw a soft light on him and you swore you saw the warrior beneath the boy and the man beneath the warrior. Finally, you stood and scooted past him to your door. "Come on."  Anakin raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes. "I have to change that dressing, you moron." Chuckling, he let you help him to his feet.


	8. Cowardice

The next two days of the archery tournament dragged on, one perfect shot after another. You wanted to jump out of your skin. No matter how hard you tried, it was near impossible to avoid both Tal and Anakin. Every time you turned around, there was one of them again. By the third and final day of archery, you were about ready to offer them both up as live targets.

Your plans for a soothing bath had been thwarted various times over those two excruciating days and you were resorting to desperate measures to be sure you would succeed. You had enlisted Salia's help in distracting Tal as the tournament ended and excused yourself a few minutes early so Anakin couldn't follow you as Padmé had requested he present the winning archer's prize. You slipped back up to the palace with seconds to spare.

You sagged with relief against your door, locking it with a code on the off chance Anakin would decide to barge in. You had purposely worn a gown without a laced-up bodice so you could step out of it easily and left the chocolate brown dress on the floor in a heap. Shoes and clothes formed a haphazard trail to the screened tub in the corner. Salia had graciously prepared the bath for you and warmed it near to the boiling point so it would be sure to remain hot. You swung your legs over the edge of the silver tub and sighed in pure contentment as you dipped into the steaming water. Flipping your hair behind your ear to keep it from getting wet, you settled in for a long, relaxing nap.

A gentle, insistent knock slowly pulled you back to consciousness. Your eyes opened groggily as you realized the water was a tepid room temperature. The knocking registered and you covered your face with your hands.

"Who is it?" You called out irritably.

"It's Padmé," a lilting voice answered from outside. You shot out of the water, grabbing a towel as you went. You weaved your way through the messy room and entered the code to open the door, embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

"I'm so sorry! I thought it was Anakin!" You apologized.

Padmé's eyes widened. "Oh no,  _ I'm _ sorry! I didn't mean to drag you from your bath."

"No, no, that's all right. I'd been in much too long anyway. Come in, Chancellor." You pulled the door wider to let her in. Padmé complied, sweeping gracefully into the room.

"Oh please, dear, we're friends, right? Women, at least. 'Padmé' will do just fine."

You laughed, shutting the door. "Of course. Won't you have a seat? Sorry about the mess."

"That's all right. My rooms look much the same most of the time," Padmé confessed with a girlish grin.

"Good to hear. Let me just put something on and I'll be right out." You grabbed your dress from the floor and scooted behind the screen to slip into it. When you emerged, Padmé had lit a lamp to aid in the dim light of dusk and sat at the table looking out the window.

"Well! To what do I owe the honor?" You asked as you seated yourself, folding your hands on the table.

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"All right?"

"You seemed awfully rushed today, that's all. I thought perhaps something was wrong."

You blushed. "No, not  _ wrong _ per se; I was just frustrated."

"With what? Or whom?" Padmé raised an eyebrow knowingly causing you to blush harder and look away out the window.

"I guess you know then," you mumbled.

"Well, I suspected it. He's been a bit… overzealous these past few days," Padmé admitted.

"He's been suffocating is what he's been! They both have!"

Padmé paused. "Both?"

"Oh. Right. There's another one." You rolled your eyes. "If I weren't so annoyed, I'd be flattered. Granted, one of them is just there to drive me crazy."

"Which one?"

You shot her a confused look. "Well, Anakin, obviously. I mean, there's certainly nothing  _ there._"

"There  _ isn't?_" Padmé gaped at you, shocked.

"No! Of course not— you thought Anakin and I— really—" your laughter bordered on hysteria. "Certainly not! I mean, it was just one kiss! It didn't mean anything! I was there and he needed somebody and he doesn't want me with anybody else because he's just a good-for-nothing and—" Padmé stood and wrapped her arms around you as you dissolved into frustrated tears.

"Shh… There, there. It's all right. Just let it out," she murmured, rubbing circles on your back. You cried silently against her shoulder until your eyes were red and puffy but dry. You pulled away, wiping at your streaked cheeks.

"I'm sorry," you began but Padmé held up a hand.

"You obviously needed that," she declared as she pulled the bellpull by the bed. A few moments later a maid knocked at the door and Padmé called for a fresh pot of tea. "Now. What brought that on?" She placed a hand on your shoulder.

You rested your head in your hands and your elbows on the table. "I don't know what to do, Padmé! I'm so confused. Here I am in another  _ galaxy_. Maybe I'm dreaming. No, no, I'm just crazy."

Padmé scooted around to your side of the table as the maid brought in a steaming pot of tea. Pouring a cupful, she handed it to you. "You're very much awake but I can't guarantee you're perfectly sane."

You laughed softly and, sipping delicately at the hot liquid, asked, "Did Stilian chase you?"

"Chase me? You might say that. We had something of an— unorthodox courtship." Padmé flushed, glancing into her teacup.

You hid your smile behind your hand and took a sip, thinking. "When did you know? That he loved you, I mean?"

Padmé raised an eyebrow. "I think it was about the time he professed himself undyingly outside my window. He's never been one for subtleties."

"Oh." You pursed your lips. "What about you? When did you know you loved him?"

"I think it was about the time he professed himself undying—"

"All right, all right, I get it." You chuckled dryly.

"Really, dear, every love is different. I don't think Anakin is the kind to stand outside a girl's window and read poetry, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel something."

"But he doesn't! He's just playing with me, toying with me, because he doesn't like Tal!"

"Tal?"

"He's a physician from some planet or another. Sweet, compassionate, respectful. Everything Anakin's not. Of course he doesn't like him," you scoffed.

"Of course he doesn't like him. He likes _you_."

You laughed humorlessly. "No, he doesn't. He's a pain in the arse and enjoys being such."

"If you don't mind my saying so, you seem awfully insistent in pointing out time and time again how much you don't like him. You know, usually that means you're already madly in love." Padmé grinned impishly, winking.

"Padmé! That is most certainly not true! Anakin's a— a— well, he's a—"

"The love of your life?"

"No!" You grumbled into your teacup, unable to come up with a suitably witty response.

"All right, maybe that's a bit much for now, but you do admit you have some feelings for the man?" You rubbed your forehead.

"I don't know. I honestly just don't know. One minute I think I could drown in his eyes, no matter how corny it sounds, and the next I want to throttle him."

"Tell me, have you ever been in love before?"

You met the woman’s eyes, startled. "I— I thought I was, once. But now I'm not so sure. It was certainly never this confusing."

Padmé smiled slightly as she stood. "Think about what you just said, dear. And then put on that lovely white, frothy concoction I saw in the armoire and join Anakin for supper." With that, she was gone. You stared at the closed door with confusion and trepidation and perhaps just a dash of excitement.

You had taken Padmé's advice and worn the white gown. It fit to your curves as though it had been tailored for you and almost appeared to float around you. You admired what little of your form you could see in the vanity mirror, twisting this way and that. Your little chat with the Chancellor had led you down a path you hadn't thought about before. Glancing at the watch Anakin had set for you, you took a deep breath. Your hands traveled down your thighs, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.

"Now or never," you murmured but made for your uniform folded neatly in the armoire instead of the door. You tugged a pack of cigarettes from the pocket and lit one by the hurricane lamp still on the table. Leaning against the arched doorframe that led out onto the balcony, you watched smoke rings filter out into the early night.

"They say those things'll kill you, you know," a voice said from across the room. You jumped and spun around and saw Anakin leaned in the doorway. 

"Even nurses have vices," you retorted. Anakin raised an eyebrow teasingly and you blushed, knowing what he was thinking. "What are you doing here, Anakin?"

"I was told you were joining me for supper."

"Oh. Right." You clenched your jaw and put your cigarette out on the stone wall. You dropped it in the empty bowl on the vanity and made your way around the bed. "All right, well, let's go." Anakin stepped aside to let you pass but sucked in his breath as the brighter light in the hallway hit you.

"What?"

"Ah, nothing. You just look… lovely… is all," he stammered.

"Oh. Thank you." You glanced away at the clock, the stairs, the candles. You tucked a stray curl behind your ear.  


Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image of you in that boring, white uniform into his head.  _The last thing you need is an English girl_ , he reminded himself, pushing away the simultaneous thought of,  _ But why not? What's the harm? _ Sighing, he pushed the button to shut the door to your room. He gestured to the stairs and you quickly started down them. As you hit the bottom step, you made to head for the banquet hall but the slight touch of his hand on the small of your back guided you down the hallway.

"Where are we going? I thought we were going to dinner!" You exclaimed, ignoring the heat his hand poured through your dress.

"We are. I thought you might enjoy some of the local color," Anakin grinned.

"Local… color…?"

Fireflies and lanterns cast a romantic glow over the festivities in the orchard just beyond the clustered tents. Music floated on the cool air and traces of fresh snow decorated the trees. All kinds of creatures exchanged elaborate dances, each trying to outdo the other. Strong alcohol fueled the cheers and merriment that circled the dancers and a bonfire kept those not light on their feet warm. The whole thing made you almost forget that you were on an overly-technological planet that was beyond your comprehension. Anakin's hand slid into yours and, breaking into a smile, he pulled you over to a large kettle manned by several Nautolans.

"Two large bowls, friends!" The Nautolans nodded pleasantly and set about filling the order.

"There you are, General! It has been our honor." One of the them bowed. Anakin followed suit with an exaggerated bow that had him pitching face-first onto the ground. You giggled, reaching down to tug him up by the hand, but he pulled you down beside him instead.

"Ah! Anakin!" He grinned cheekily and handed you a bowl of stew. Alp trotted over and lay down beside you, his head resting on his hands. You tucked your dress around your knees and set about the delicious-smelling stew.

At least an hour passed before someone spoke. You leaned against Anakin's shoulder, your hair brushing his chin. He noticed you no longer carried that heavenly lavender perfume about you before he realized that it was in England. The small, glass bottle that probably held your favorite scent was miles and years away, out of reach. Anakin shook himself, determined to keep to his previous vow not to think of England, but your very presence made it difficult.

Everything you did and everything you said served to remind him of that war-ravaged country and his equally torn-apart self when he was there, yet he was drawn to you. Something about you pulled him in and made him want to take you in his arms and kiss you senseless. The one kiss you had shared refused to leave him alone. When you talked, he was mesmerized by your lips. When he slept, all he saw behind his closed eyelids was moonlit auburn hair on his pillow. And when he saw you with that irritatingly perfect physician, it made him want to punch a wall.

The sound of your voice suddenly broke into his ponderings, "I love children."

Anakin's brow knit in confusion and he glanced down at you. "What?"

Laughing softly, you gestured to a group of children playing between the dancers as a little boy wrapped his arms around a little girl and kissed her cheek. "I love children. People think they're innocent but they're not. That's what makes them so incredibly endearing, really. They experience our entire range of emotions: joy, sorrow, hate. Love. The only difference between us 'grown-ups' and them is that they have the courage to act on their feelings."

"And we don't," Anakin finished quietly. You nodded, shifting your weight uncomfortably. He stopped you from moving away with a hand on your far arm as he called out your name. "I— Come on. Let's dance." He changed his thought mid-sentence, the terrifying concept of rejection rearing its ugly head, and hopped to his feet, extending a hand to you.

You stared at it and then his face. "You said you don't like to dance," you pointed out.

"No, I didn't! That's Obi-Wan!" He answered as if on autopilot. When he realised what he said, he smiled sadly, but didn't say anything. 

You swallowed, glancing to the fire and back to him. "No, really. You told me you weren't going to go to the dance because you didn't like all this modern— oh. I see." With pursed lips you pushed yourself up, ignoring his hand, and dusted yourself off. "Shall we?"

A smile crossed Anakin's lips and he caught your reluctant hand in his, pulling you into the circle of dancers. He wrapped an arm around your waist, picking up the beat as he swung you around and around. Your dress swirled around your feet and your long, curly hair bounced loose from its clip. You laughed merrily as he lifted you off your feet and twirled you around in his arms as the song ended. The last note scattered to the edge of the lessening crowd and you slid back down to earth agan, your hands on his shoulders. Your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Eyes traveling over his face, you murmured softly, "You need a haircut."

"Maybe you should take care of that," he whispered back, leaning closer.

"Maybe I should." You tilted your head to the side, your eyelids dropping shut.

"(y/n)! I thought you might tell us about Earth!" A voice called out and the two of you sprang apart, though Anakin's hand remained at your waist.

"Excuse me?" You swallowed, blinking, and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"A story? About your world. So little is known about other galaxies," Alp interjected with a respectful nod of his head.

"You want  _ me _ to tell you? But why not Anakin?" You protested.

"General Skywalker has already told us a great many stories of the Clone Wars. It is your turn!" Somebody joked.

You shot Anakin a worried glance, almost asking permission to speak of England. He shrugged noncommittally and looked away. "Um, all right, I guess." Someone pulled over a stool for you and you sat down, tucking your skirts around you.

"Let's see. Ah… my, I don't know where to begin. What would you like to know?"

"What are the people like?" A woman asked.

"Well, they are much like the people here, I suppose. It's a very different culture and there are only humans and animals."

"What about the music?" Someone else asked.

"Oh it's very different! It's called jazz and it's very upbeat. Lots of horns and love songs," you smiled, your eyes brightening a bit.

"Horns in the music?"

"Yes. And we use the radio to make announcements and telephones or letters to communicate instead of holograms." Seeing their blank stares, you explained, "A radio is a little box that you can turn a dial on and sound comes through it. Music, news, that sort of thing." Most of them still looked confused, but a few pretended to understand what you meant.

"What about the stars?" A Cerean asked from the back.

"The stars?"

"Cereans study the stars," Anakin grunted in explanation, his chin in his hand.

"Oh. Well, I don't know much about constellations but I'm almost certain we have many different from those you have here. There's Thunderbird and Aquarius and Orion, the hunter. Every night I always look out my window and find Orion because he's the easiest to spot. He has three bright stars that make up his belt. Then there is the Lyre. It has a terribly sad story. Orpheus was the greatest musician in the world and his love had been taken in death by the god of the underwold, Hades. Orpheus played the most beautiful melody ever heard and melted Hades' heart so he would free his love, but Orpheus broke the pact that he would not look at her until they reached the surface again. Hades pulled her back to the underworld and Orpheus didn't see her again until he died. They say the gods put the Lyre in the sky to remind us of the power of true love."

Alp wiped a tear from his eye with his hand, sniffling. "That's a beautiful story," he said hoarsely.

You smiled, your eyes crinkling. "Yes, it is." You glanced over at Anakin with his clenched jaw and fists and the corners of your mouth turned down slightly.

"Tell us more, Lady (y/n)!" 

"Yes, tell us about your lives in, what did you call it again?"

"England. I'm from London, actually, which is in England. It's the capitol city. I believe Anakin, here, can tell you a bit about it, can't you?"

Anakin was on his feet in an instant, hands clenching and unclenching. "I'm not from anywhere near London. I'm from here, dammit!" With that, he turned on his heel and stormed away, his angry footsteps evident in the smashing about of snow and leaves.

You stood, one hand raised to stop him but he was already gone. "Anakin, wait! Anakin!" You glanced over at the astonished group, thankful most had already gone to bed. "Excuse me." You lifted your skirts, darting in the general direction Anakin had taken. You ran, squinting against the dark.

"Anakin? Anakin, please. Don't be ridiculous. You're far too sensitive," you called, knowing he was nearby.

"I am not," he insisted, stepping out from behind a tree into the dim moonlight, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

You heaved a sigh. "Yes. You are. You're a fool who doesn't want to see reality."

"If your reality was half as fucked up as mine is then maybe you wouldn't want to see it either."

"How bad can it—"

"You have no idea of the shit I've been through," he quickly interrupted you.

"Maybe not," you started, trying your best to keep your voice as calm as you could. "But what I do know is that you have people who love you, Anakin. Both here _and_ in England."

Anakin turned to look at you, his eyes narrowed. "No one should love me in England. For fuck's sake, no one in England should even _know_ I exist." He scoffed as he was visibly starting to lose his cool. "I never asked for England!"

"And yet you got what most people never get to see first hand! You got a family in another bloody _galaxy_ that loves you, Anakin." You reasoned, recalling him mentioning the foster family that took him in when he got cast to London. "What else could you possibly want?"

"I want my fucking life back!" He snapped.

You stayed silent at that, not knowing what else to say. Whatever it could possibly be, you were sure it would only serve to further upset him. For the short time that you've known him, you'd learned that he was incredibly stubborn. You couldn't exactly say that you understood him, but you could only imagine what it would be like to be on his shoes. You were sure you'd be in such distress too if the life you've always known were to be taken away from you. 

Anakin stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back. "What made you tell the story about Orpheus and his bride?" You were relieved he changed the subject.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. You've been very philosophical this evening."

"Is that a problem?"

He shook his head. "No. It's just curious, that's all. You're usually very straightforward. Don't have any problems making yourself heard. But it seems to me you're dodging something."

You tensed and your posture straightened, immediately defensive. "I've been thinking the same about you all evening."

"Have you now?" His voice was softer all of a sudden and he was too close but you couldn't make yourself move away.

"Yes," you whispered.

Anakin brought a hand up and lightly ran his fingers across your hairline. "And what do you think it might be that I've been avoiding?"

"I don't— I don't— I'm sure I don't know." Your eyes were heavy but through the tiny slits you could still see through, you could only focus on his lips.

"Neither do I." His voice was quiet and the cold breeze melded it with the gently falling snow. Your hands steadied you on his arms as his lips ghosted across your forehead. "Neither do I," he whispered again. You both knew it was a cowardly lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was only a matter of time before the poor thing exploded. But hey, I can assure you he feels much better now that he got it out of his chest :)


	9. Lesson Learned

Minutes and hours tripped and stumbled over one another, meshing into one long train of shared glances and petty arguments. The moment you thought Anakin might be worth the aggravation, he would have to go and remind you exactly why you couldn't stand him. It was almost as though he were deliberately sabotaging anything you might have.

For instance, the day before the five-day duelling tournament was to begin, he decided to give you a tour of the Jedi Temple. You ungracefully tripped over your feet and grabbed onto his arm in a vain attempt to steady yourself, thus pulling him down with you. His very touch had pinned you to the snow but you hadn't noticed the cold. In fact, it had felt rather warm out. That night, however, Anakin drank so much ale you would have had to drag him up the stairs to his chamber if you hadn't been so mad and left him in the dining hall all night.

An excessively loud bang dragged Anakin into a hazy consciousness. He groaned and painfully opened one eye. You swam into focus and even through his hungover vision he could see your irritation in the clench of your jaw. Slowly it registered that his cheek was plastered against the rough wood of the tabletop and he forced himself to lift his heavy head. Another groan followed the first and he covered his face with his hands.

"You're mad at me," he mumbled.

"Congratulations on stating the obvious, you've just won a free hangover," you snapped back.

"Stop yelling. I can hear you all too well as it is."

"That's insobriety talking. If I lower my voice any more, people are going to think we're arranging a secret tryst after the way you carried on last night." You finished stirring the pitcher you had initially woke him with and, pouring him a stein, slammed it down on the table in front of him. "Drink."

"You're angry with me and you think I'm going to drink just anything you put in front of me? I'm not stupid."

"For heaven's sake, Anakin, I'm not poisoning you, no matter how much I may like to at the moment. It's my job and my instinct to take care of everyone else, whether they're an arrogant ass or not." You rubbed your forehead as though you were sharing in his self-inflicted pain. "So drink."

Anakin stared, unconvinced, into the murky tar in his glass but took a reluctant sip. He scrunched up his nose, shooting you a dirty look. You smirked. "I never understood why these things had to taste so fucking terrible," he complained.

"Get drunk often?" You raised an eyebrow in challenge as you pulled out a chair across from him. Anakin glared at you over the rim of his mug.

"And you never do?" He shot back, thinking of the bourbon bottle under your bed. You blushed, obviously thinking the same thing.

"That's different," you protested lamely.

Anakin raised his eyebrows but let the subject drop. Noticing the strange, morning light shining through the windows, he asked, "How early is it, anyway?"

"About six. I figured you would want to be woken up before somebody important stumbled across the General passed out in the dining hall."

Anakin winced. "Speaking of which, I ought to get cleaned up before we break the fast." He pushed himself up from the table, closing one eye against the onslaught of pain and light. "I'm getting too old for this," he grumbled before too quickly holding up a hand, "Don't say a word." You bit your lip to hold back a smile.

...

Anakin held himself up by the edge of the vanity, staring blankly into the mirror. Honestly, he couldn't say what had gotten into him the night before. He wondered if there was something in particular he had said or if you were just mad at him in general. Your words made him think he must have made quite a fool out of himself, far besides his alcohol intake. Anakin wished he could see past the fog clouding his memory so he would at least know what exactly it was he had said or done. He really had made a mess of things now, hadn't he?

He met his own bloodshot eyes in the mirror and his jaw clenched. How was he supposed to compete in the duel looking —and feeling— like this? 

A knock came at the door and Anakin straightened, adjusting the tunic he would wear under his armor. He threw the door open to reveal the last person he expected to see; Tal.

"General, I wondered if I might speak with you for a moment?" The man looked more tired and angry than Anakin had ever seen him.

He sighed. "Yes, yes, of course. Come in." Anakin stepped aside to allow the surgeon entrance. Tal walked inside, crossing his arms uncomfortably as he went. Anakin shut the door and leaned against it.

"I assume you're here because of something I did last night?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I don't mean to be rude, sir, but Lady (y/n) was very upset when she left. Very upset with  _ you,”_ Tal explained.

"Yes, I know." Anakin ran a hand over his face. "I know it sounds like an excuse, but, to be honest, I don't remember much past my fourth or fifth pint. I didn't dance on any tables, did I?"

Tal almost cracked a smile. "No. But there might have been some garbled variation on a declaration of love to (y/n)."

Anakin stared at him, mortified. "I did  _what_?" He exclaimed, grimacing at the loud noise.

"Well, I don't think you ever actually said you loved her but it was rather implied in the way you insisted on doing everything for her and sitting next to her and, then, of course, there was when you kissed her."

"Oh my god." Anakin covered his face with both hands and tipped his head back against the door. "I knew it must have been something dreadful but I never imagined… And for all her insisting we're not— or anything…"

"Are you duelling today?" Tal asked abruptly.

Anakin made a face. "Yes. I can only imagine what that crowd is going to sound like in my head."

"Self-inflicted," Tal pointed out without sympathy. "It might do to apologize before you go out there. Don't let her think you're more concerned with adding another title to your name than with her. Sir."

Anakin eyed him warily. "Shouldn't you of all people be infinitely glad I've made an idiot of myself?"

"Why?"

"Because you've been following her around like a little, lost puppy dog since we got here." Anakin folded his arms over his chest, straightening away from the door.

Tal scratched his head, looking out the window. "That's all fine, well and good but, despite all the odds, you're the only one she has eyes for. Trust me."

"What are you, crazy? The woman hates my guts. Especially now!"

"You'd be surprised. Besides, she's going to be stuck with you if you ever you go back and I'll still be here."

"Fine. Be the bigger man. Impress her. But what in creation makes  you think she feels anything besides a deep-seeded wrath for me?"

"Tell me, General. Do you love her?"

Anakin stared at the man wide-eyed for a long moment. He opened his mouth to answer but the horns blew outside and he shook his head. "If you'll excuse me, I must take my leave. I do apologize for everything I said and did last night." With that, he almost calmly opened the door and walked out into the hall, leaving Tal standing there staring at the place he had stood in.

Anakin marched purposefully down the grand hallway, taking Tal's advice no matter how he might feel about it. Stopping at your door, he knocked briefly.

"What, Anakin?" Your voice called irritably from inside.

"I just wanted to apologize before the tournament starts. I know it doesn't make up for anything but Tal told me what I did and I do feel awful if it means anything to you," he said, looking at his feet. There was a shuffling inside but the door remained closed. "Aren't you at least going to open the door?"

"Go away, Anakin. I'm letting you suffer all on your own."

He sighed in exasperation. "Oh, come on! I have to get down to the field. I'm late as it is. Can't you at least wish me luck?"

"Wish you luck on what?"

"In the duel! What else?" Anakin rolled his eyes in spite of himself.

The door flew open and you stared at him from the other side. "You're not _com_ _peting_?" You stated in a question that resembled a shriek.

"Yes, of course."

"Anakin! You're already hurt," you gestured to his chest where his wound was still on the mend, "And you're hungover! You can't fight!"

"I most certainly can. I'm fine, I tell you. Just a bit of a headache," he protested indignantly.

"I'm sure you  can, but you  _won't_. I won't let you kill yourself for a title."

"Are you forbidding me from competing?"

"That is exactly what I'm doing. You can watch, bet, cheer, do whatever it is you boys do but you had better not get out on that field, Anakin Skywalker."

"If I twist that just right it sounds like a challenge. Cheerio!" Anakin took off before you could reach out and grab him. You heaved a sigh, slamming your door.

You were pale and drawn when you arrived at the arena but you strode somewhat indignantly up to the box you shared with Stilian and Padmé. The two nodded to you in greeting as you took your seat beside them so you and Stilian sat on either side of the Chancellor. Stilian paid little attention as Padmé grandly announced the start of the games. Your head ached through the first few contestants and only grew worse as the day went on. Half of you wanted to find Anakin and wring his neck while the other half prayed he would not injure himself beyond repair. You felt strangled; your corset was too tight, though it was perhaps the loosest you had worn all week. You had been too preoccupied that morning to bother doing anything with your hair so it hung down around your shoulders in unkempt curls.

After what seemed an eternity, Anakin's first duel was up. Your knuckles were white as you gripped the arms of your chair. As Anakin was handed his lightsaber, he spared a glance your way. His eyes swept over you, remorse for his actions over the last week creeping into his heart. Anakin shook himself; it wouldn't do to be distracted on his first duel of the day. One hand unconsciously rubbed across his wound as he watched his opponent prepare across the field. A horn blew and simultaneously they charged. Not much time had passed before he won his first round and he turned to look at you, victorious. Confidence swelled and he inwardly scoffed at your warnings. _He would be fine._

Padmé watched you out of the corner of her eye, catching the way you leaned forward, tensing, as Anakin completed his duel. The corners of the Chancellor's mouth tipped up in a small, secretive smile.

By the end of the day, the only time you could think of having ever felt more exhausted was your first day at the war hospital in Hastings. Having watched Anakin nearly kill himself all day, you were a bundle of nerves. You called for supper in your room and collapsed into the soft, down mass that was your bed. You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

The second day of the tournament arrived all too soon. You dragged yourself out of bed just as the horns blew outside. The air had turned frigid in the night and a crew of men had been put together just to clear a path in the snowdrifts down to the arena. For a brief moment, you had visions of ice skating in Hyde Park as you had done as a child. A smile crossed your face as you gazed out the window. The moment passed and you found yourself again looking out on a world so very different from your own you felt a squeeze of homesickness on your heart. With a heavy sigh, you slipped into the dress Salia had laid out for you early that morning before you had woken and stepped out into the empty hall.

Anakin was up first that morning and he seemed nearly unstoppable. Perfect hit after perfect hit did nothing to soothe your fears, however. With each successful pass, your sense of dread only deepened. You had every faith in his abilities, but he was putting such strain on his wound, you knew he could only hold out so long. The day dragged on as its predecessor had and even your inexperienced eye noticed the way his lightsaber drooped and his grip loosened. There were whispers in the crowd and you grew tenser as Anakin began to slip from the lead. Each time he lost a duel it was accompanied by your small, worried gasp.

At one point, just about one o'clock, you abruptly popped to your feet. Padmé and Stilian both looked over at you, startled. "I'm absolutely parched! Does anyone else want anything?" You announced, your voice a bit more high-pitched than usual.

Stilian's lips twitched. "We can just call to have someone send something up for you," he offered.

"Oh, no, no. I need to stretch my legs anyway. Really? Nothing for you two? All right, then." Without waiting for an answer you shot down the rough-hewn steps from the box. Trudging in meandering circles through the small paths cut in the waist-high snow, you stumbled across a small group of creatures —you couldn't remember what they were called— selling hot cider from their cauldron. Knowing you didn't have any money, you bit your lip and made to go around them but a kindly Togruta stopped you.

"Free cider for the General's lady?"

You flushed and made to correct her, but you really were cold and thirsty and their cider smelled absolutely heavenly. You nodded, your teeth clenched to keep from chattering. "Thank you. That would be lovely." A tall Quermian poured you a large mug and you took it gratefully, smiling your thanks. As you took a sip, you turned at the sound of footsteps.

"I thought you would be up in the box!" Tal exclaimed in surprise, taking a glove off to search for some credits.

"I needed to move around a bit. It gets tiring sitting up there all day," you explained, not meeting his eyes.

Tal paid the creatures and, taking a sip of the delicious cider, began to walk away, nodding for you to follow. Once you were a safe distance from earshot, he said, "You're worried about the General."

"He's being an absolute buffoon."

Tal chuckled. "What makes you so distraught though? You look as though you might faint any minute now," he noted innocently, raising his eyebrows over the rim of his mug.

You stared at him a moment before realization crossed your face. "Tal, we've been over this! Anakin and I are only—"

"Only what? Friends? I've never met two people who called themselves friends that fought as much and as harshly as the two of you do."

"Well, maybe I wasn't going to  say friends. Maybe I was going to say, um, professionals. Yes, that's it! He's a patient and I am only here to help him," you finished definitely.

"Mhmm. I'm in the same field you are, you know,  and I  don't have the same desperate fear for every last hair on my patient’s heads as you do with his."

"I'm not desperate!"

Tal reached out a hand and, cupping your cheek in it, ran his thumb over the dark circles under your eyes. "Then what do you call these?" He murmured softly. "Yo u haven't slept in days."

You looked away, sighing. "No need to tell  me. I was there," you snapped.

Tal's lips tipped up in half a smile. "You don't need to protect me, you know . You'll probably be leaving soon and Anakin will be there and I won't. But, then, if you haven't seen how he feels about you by now, maybe you never will." His hand dropped back to his side.

You took a lingering sip of your cider, looking at but not really watching two men go head to head. As one hit the ground, you turned back to him. "You're a good man, Tal. Far too good for me, that's for sure." You smiled, patting his chest.

Tal shook his head. "Nah. You're too good for either of us." He gently laid a hand on your shoulder. "They'll be wondering where you are." He nodded in the direction of the royal box. You bit your lip, nodding. It was with a slightly lighter heart that you kissed his cheek and smiled your gratitude.

It was almost dusk and the last two opponents of the day were called up. Anakin eyed the usurper of his lead with trepidation. The man was nearly as good as Obi-Wan had once been and with his aggravated injury, he didn't stand a chance. Anakin sighed. With a glance towards the brilliant red rays of the setting sun, he reminded himself he could hardly back out now. 

You rested your head on your fist, drained from admitted excessive worry. Your eyes began to drift shut but as Anakin rode onto the field, you forced yourself to sit up. The least you could do was stay awake for his last duel of the day. You watched through tired eyes as the two warriors charged each other across the expansive field. It was in slow motion that the powerful man's lightsaber collided squarely with Anakin's, throwing him off-balance and —with the use of the force— Anakin was knocked off his feet with the ease one would brush away a fly.

The entire arena gasped and collectively sat forward. You sprang from your seat to clutch the railing. Your cry of "Anakin!" rang through the crowd with a poignant echo. You stared in shock and horror at Anakin's motionless body. The General had fallen.

...

The snow was melted and thrashed in a crooked line outside Anakin's tent. You paced back and forth, your hands mindlessly running up and down your arms to keep you warm. Night had fallen and only the moon —or, rather, moons— and a few torches lit your well-worn path. Suddenly, Tal emerged from the tent and you descended on him as a moth to a flame or a magnet to the north.

"How is he?" You demanded, placing a hand on the physician's arm.

Tal shrugged. "Sore." Your eyes narrowed and he sighed. "He's going to have to withdraw from the tournament. But, then, I think we all know you were going to make that happen anyway."

You stepped back, picking at your sleeve. "But he'll live long enough for me to yell at him?"

"Yes. He will be just fine in a few weeks,  if  he rests."

You nodded. "Can I see him?"

"He might be a bit grouchy, but that's your call. And go easy on him. He's taken a bust to his pride." Tal grinned, laying a hand on your arm as he made his way out from the contestants' array of tents, where Anakin had insisted on staying, despite the fact he had a far more comfortable room inside the palace. Stubborn, as always. You took a deep breath and lifted the curtain to enter.

A rug formed the floor to keep away the dirt and the dew and furnishings decorated the small space. A second, light curtain separated the "living room" from the "bedroom." You shed your shawl on a chair and peeked into the adjoining room. Anakin lay on the extravagant mattress that had been set up for him, hands folded over the covers, drawn up to his chest.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes closed. You folded your arms over your chest and stepped up to the foot of the bed. His eyes opened to meet yours.

You shuffled your feet. "So am I." You held a hand up as Anakin's brow knit in confusion. "For trying to take this away from you. I wanted to take away your pain but to do that I would have taken away everything else as well. I don't understand this place or your place in it, but I understand you love it as I love England. We'll count this a lesson learned."

Anakin gave a brief smile and, for once, you swore it reached his eyes. "Apology accepted. But, really, I was just being stupid."

You laughed and moved around to sit on the edge of the bed. Tracing the embroidered pattern with one finger, you said, "Well, that may be so, and is, but it still wasn't fair. You can't take away a man's will to protect him."

"Explain something to me, (y/n). You say you understand how I love Coruscant because you love England." You waited for him to finish but it appeared that was all he intended upon saying.

"I'm not sure what you're asking."

"And I'm not trying to be a pain in the neck when I say I still don't know how you can love and miss England so much when you have  Coruscant right here beneath your feet. Nothing compares!"

You allowed a small smile. "You love everything about Coruscant; every last little detail." You paused for Anakin to nod his agreement. "When you tell stories of the battles you fought in, I can see in the way you speak of them that you were scared witless at the time and the mere thought brings back memories that just might keep you up at night. But you wouldn't trade anything in the stars for the knowledge that you protected that which you love. The good with the bad, right? That's how England is for me. It's not perfect, but it's home."

Anakin couldn't take his eyes from your face as you spoke. "Can you forgive me?"

Your eyes shot to his face. "I can't say I'm not still upset about you nearly getting yourself killed, Anakin, but there isn't anything to forgive, narrow-minded tendencies or otherwise."

"Not even a drunken kiss?" He raised an eyebrow.

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Tal has a big mouth."

"Tell me, am I a better kisser when I'm drunk or when I'm sober?" He teased, grabbing your hand. The serious mood in the tent dissipated with a few easy words.

"Well, considering you missed when you were drunk, I'd say sober." You winked, intertwining your fingers with his. Anakin flushed and looked away.

"Not my finest moment," he mumbled.

Your laugh bubbled up and soon you were both giggling into pillows to keep from waking the neighbors. As your mirth subsided, you sat there trying unsuccessfully not to smirk at each other. Your eyes traveled around the tent for fear if you looked him in the eye you would not be able to contain yourself, humorously or romantically. Noticing a book on the nightstand, you picked it up and asked, "What's this?"

Anakin glanced down and rolled his eyes. "Padmé brought it by. Said she wouldn't want me getting bored while I was bedridden. I asked her if you put her up to that comment."

You swatted at his arm as you thumbed the book open with one hand. "Have you even opened it?"

"Not exactly."

You shook your head and waved a hand at him. "Scoot over." He shot you one of those looks that always earned him a glare. "It looks interesting and as it was meant for you I'm going to read to you."

"You're going to  read to me? Oh, come on. Seriously?"

"Yeah. And you're not even going to complain." You grinned cheekily at him and with another playful roll of his eyes he obligingly scooted over, mindful of his multiplying injuries.

Concern crossed your face but you pretended not to notice for the sake of the pride you had already wounded several times over the past few days. Instead, you settled yourself beside him and opened to the first page in the book. As he listened to your soft voice and the devastatingly romantic story, which Anakin insisted on noting several times sounded familiar, he realized something. Yes, you were English and you reminded him of things he didn't want to even think about. But, as he had silently admitted days before, there was really just something about you. He didn't mean to be corny, but truth be told, that's how he felt. It wasn't that you were stunningly beautiful, though you were. Nor was it that you were singularly articulate, though, again, you were. 

No, it was that, as you said of England, you weren't perfect. You cared too much about everyone and could talk his ear off when you felt like it. You weren't a particularly good dancer. You could be moody and temperamental. You were only human, after all. Without a doubt, that was the elusive something he hadn't been able to recognize in you before: you  were only human. Nothing spectacular or legendary. Just a simple girl in a complicated world.

Your own reading soon lulled you to sleep. Anakin lay beside you, eyes on the ceiling, until your words trailed off and, glancing over, he realized you were out for the count. With a small smile, he slid from beneath the covers and retrieved an extra blanket from across the room. He slipped your shoes off and dropped them on the floor before tucking the thick coverlet around you and curling up behind you.

Early the next morning a healer found the two of you curved around each other, Anakin's arm around your waist and your hand atop his. She let you sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise if there are any mistakes here. It's almost 2am and I got the sudden urge to post but I'm way too fucking lazy to proofread this


	10. In the Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder to make sure you read the previous chapter cause this probably won't make much sense if you didn't. Happy reading :)

The final day of the duelling tournament arrived with fanfare and excitement. A procession of the court followed by the Chancellor led the way to the arena. You traipsed behind, preferring the company of Alp and Tal. As the three of you walked together through the snow, your arms swinging at your sides, you took in a deep breath of cold, winter air and thought of Anakin. He walked just a little ways ahead wearing something of a magnificent uniform that you guessed was what he usually wore during his days as a General. You had smiled to see him so decked out.

Anakin glanced back over his shoulder at the three stragglers. You threw your head back and laughed at something Alp had said and Anakin crooked a small smile. He liked to see you happy. It had been a long time since he had liked sitting and watching someone laugh, cause unknown. Anakin twisted back so he was facing forward, but his thoughts dwelled on the woman behind him. He wasn't naive, despite what anyone might think, and he certainly wasn't unaware or ignorant of the emotions swirling inside him. You were the first person to incite such intense ponderings. 

His arrival at the noisy arena interrupted Anakin's thoughts and soon he was being a bit too ceremoniously hauled up to the box. You trailed just behind, having caught up in mock-fear Anakin would bolt. You knew he didn't enjoy being cooped up and forced to only watch and not participate, though he had cooperated nicely the past two days. You took your seats and, as Padmé started the day off, you glanced over at him, only to find him already watching you.

"What?" You asked quietly, unnerved by his gaze.

Anakin half-smiled, reaching out a hand and taking yours in it. "Nothing." You didn't look convinced but he gave your hand a squeeze and turned his attention to the games.

You found yourself paying more attention to the calluses on Anakin's palm as they brushed roughly over the back of your hand than to the commencing duels and continued to study his profile from the corner of your eye after he looked away. You took in the way his eyes squinted against the glare of sunlight on snow and the way his hair flopped to one side no matter how much you knew he tried to force it to stay neatly combed.

Anakin felt your eyes on him as though everywhere you traced with them was on fire. As an Alderaanian completed an impressive dodge, he clapped a hand against his thigh so as not to let go of yours. His memory banks flicked through file after file of beautiful planets and foreign women but not one came to mind that had made him feel like this simple yet lovely British woman did.

Anakin wouldn't go so far as to say he was in love with you, but there was the distinct possibility. In fact, the thought of chocolate candies in red, heart-shaped boxes no longer evoked memories of his British foster brother's unsuccessful attempt at wooing the neighbor girl when he just got to England, but brought to mind timid fantasies for the long-off Valentine's Day. Anakin was surprised as he realized he was actually looking forward to something that would only take place back in England. He glanced at you, abruptly startled, not sure how he felt about that prospect. Granted, it had only been a passing, slightly sarcastic thought of a rather ridiculous holiday, but it had been thought nonetheless.

You felt him tense beside you, his hand still enveloping yours though the morning had progressed into early afternoon. Your eyes darted to him, instinctually fearing he had somehow aggravated his wound. You visibly relaxed once you assured yourself he was physically fine and allowed yourself to rub your thumb over the back of his hand in small comfort.

"Are you all right?" You asked, quiet enough so the others couldn't hear. Anakin nodded tightly before looking over to meet your eyes. Both his and your eyes clashed and sparked and you dropped his hand without meaning to. The rest of the games passed in a tangible silence that, while not awkward or uncomfortable, pressed between you, seeping into the spider-like fractures that threatened to demolish their carefully constructed, yet fragile, walls like so many glass windows.

You and Padmé slipped away as the men were gathering around to congratulate the final winner. You laughed and chatted your way to the palace and, as you were turning to head up the stairs in the direction of your chambers, the Chancellor caught your arm.

"Just change in my rooms, why don't you? I'm sure we can even find something in my rather extensive wardrobe you can wear," Padmé joked.

So you made your way to her suite to begin your preparations for the concluding ball of the Winter Festival. Padmé had somehow managed to plan an entire feast and dance whilst still attending all the games and to her numerous guests.

You merely shook your head at the other woman's tenacity, not to mention at the sheer and splendid opulence of the suite. Padmé called for tea and you sat in your robes on the bed, sipping at your cups and giggling over all manner of things like young girls. You wiled away an hour or two in such a manner before setting about getting ready for the big night. 

Padmé threw open the double doors that stood along one wall to reveal what was quite possibly the largest closet you had ever seen. Dress after dress and gown after gown lined the rich mahogany-paneled walls in every color and fashion. They were arranged by use, whether it be dancing, business meetings or midnight relaxing. Padmé laughed quietly at the expression on your face.

"Stop laughing. I've never seen so many clothes all in one place before!" You chided, your eyes a bit wide.

Padmé was leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded. "Pick whatever you like. What's mine is yours." She waved a hand carelessly and straightened. "Although, honestly, I would go with something white. You looked stunning last time you wore it. Anakin commented on it himself the next day," she smirked.

You flushed. "Oh, he did now, didn't he? What, did you drag it out of him, kicking and screaming?"

With a roll of her eyes, Padmé flipped a lock of brown hair over her shoulder. "Stop pretending you're so blind. It may not be love but there's something there. Have you not seen the way he looks at you? Do you think I have not seen the way you look at him?" She challenged.

You looked away with a sigh. After a pause, you murmured, "Of course I have seen. I am a grown woman, Padmé, but that doesn't mean I have any experience in this sort of thing."

"Not to sound rude, but Anakin kind of does." Padmé joked and stepped into the closet and began rustling through the arrayed gowns.

Your lips tipped up on one side. "Yes, I know." Your answer had Padmé spinning around, shocked. "Well, not like  that , Padmé! For heaven's sake!"

To your surprise, the Chancellor looked almost disappointed. "Come, now! He's handsome, you're beautiful; you are both young and full of life! What is so wrong about loving in the moment even if you may refuse to live there?"

"You sound like an old, dying philosopher," you snapped, though you felt the truth in your friend's words.

"Quite possibly, but that doesn't mean I'm not right."

"I know you're right and it irks me. I don't want to even be in the same room as Anakin. But if I list his flaws you'll only tell me I love him all the more!"

"So true, so true. I'm glad you've come to learn the pattern of my lectures," Padmé smiled. "Here. Try this one on." She tossed a soft, pale blue dress to your ranting self.

"It's not white," you pointed out needlessly.

"Oh, hush up. It'll bring out your eyes. Ani will love it."

"Ani?" You asked in confusion. 

"Oh, it's his childhood nickname," Padmé explained. "I first met him when he was nine and I fourteen, you see, everyone referred to him as such. I'm sure it was his mother who came up with it." Padmé smiled absentmindedly. "Once he grew up he insisted everyone called him just Anakin."

You smiled fondly at the thought of Anakin as a child, tried to imagine him and his mother. You never would've thought the stubborn and deep-troubled man you knew would go by any other name that wasn't the one he was born with. And, now that you knew him better, you'd never have expected that a well respected man and cunning warrior would have such a tender nickname. 

Yet, somehow, it suited him. 

Padmé and you arrived for the ball fashionably late, sweeping in as if everyone  _else_ had kept  _ you  _ waiting. Padmé was announced first and descended with all the grace you could always envy to her husband's waiting kiss of admiration. Taking a deep breath, you schooled your features into a pleasant smile and stepped out onto the large top step. It wasn't that everyone turned and was swept away by your beauty. The room didn't grow quiet or still. But it certainly seemed that way to you and Anakin as your eyes met for the second time that day.

Your hair was twisted into a braided bun with a blue ribbon intertwined. Your dress was of the faintest ice blue, so soft it almost appeared Padmé's favored white. The cap sleeves and empire waist with a matching, dainty shawl made Anakin think of those old romance novels his foster sister pored over. Traces of an irridescent silver thread throughout the uniquely simple gown and cover caught the light so you shimmered and captivated, though Anakin imagined you would have done that had you been wearing a potato sack.

You stepped down the stairs, holding your skirt a little above your toes to keep from tripping head over heels and took his outstretched hand. Anakin pulled you to him so he could whisper in your ear, "Padmé cleaned you up nice."

You glared and swatted at his arm, retorting with, "And if only I had a camera, I could show you off all primped and cleaned and  _ruffled_ to the boys back home." You flipped your fingers over the velvet ruffles along the bottom edge of Anakin's tunic with a smirk.

He grimaced. "It's the style. I'm expected to look stylish." Anakin found he couldn't tear his gaze from your eyes. The dress really did bring them out.

You glanced out over the already filling dance floor. "Do we have dance cards?"

Anakin chuckled, rubbing his thumb over your hand. "Are you asking me to dance? I do believe that's my job."

"I'll take that as a 'no', then."

"And I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Anakin turned, still clutching your hand, and half-dragged you into the swirling couples. His arm went around your waist, any pretenses left far behind you. You danced in silence, the noise of the room filling in where a conversation might have stood. 

Finally, as the song turned to a slow waltz, Anakin asked, looking at something over your shoulder, "What have we got?"  At your startled look, he elaborated, "With us? What are we? And what are we going to be if we go back?"

"That's abrupt. I thought we had decided to just not talk about it," you said, a tinge of acid in your voice.

He sighed, relaxing his hold a bit. "We never actually decided that."

"It was a silent agreement."

"Well, I think we need to talk about it, anyway."

"Lighten up, Anakin. It's a party." Anakin bit his lip with a sigh but let it go, as though he had suddenly remembered he was dancing to a very slow, romantic song with a beautiful woman in his arms.

You danced a few songs, grazed through the buffet and then danced a few more. As the night went on and the wine was poured, both of you relaxed enough to appear comfortable in each other's arms. You laughed freely and your smiles grew genuine. Padmé winked at you over Stilian's shoulder drawing out the twinkling eyes and the cheeky smile. 

Sometime after it grew dark and candles lit the ballroom with an elegant glow, a trio of women collected long poles from a corner and fastened a clump of holly berries to the end of it. You watched curiously as they spread through the crowd, holding the branches aloft so the berries and leaves dangled up above.

"What are they doing?" You asked Anakin as small groups spontaneously burst out into laughter.

Anakin glanced over and grinned. "Oh. It's Coruscant's version of mistletoe. It's said that a long time ago, Alderaan's queen was very put out when she discovered it doesn't grow here during her first visit, so she decided holly would work just as well and added her, uh, own personal touch. You know, spread the wealth. I'm not surprised it stuck; it was always a very popular tradition."

You smiled, briefly raising your eyebrows. "I see."

"Maybe I ought to pull us just a smidge more out into the open… Make us a target…" Anakin caught your around the waist and easily dragged you towards the nearest holly-bearing woman. She bowed and bounded over to oblige him.

"Anakin—" whatever else you might have been about to protest was obliterated by his lips on yours. It was a dramatic, exaggerated kiss, meant not to be overly romantic or personal. You knew that but still couldn't help but melt against him. The first time you had kissed, you had been preoccupied with wanting it. This time was so unexpected— thinking would have been out of the question. It was short and teasing, but you could have sworn he had left an impression on your very being.

He pulled away and the whistles and cheers filtered into your consciousness. You blinked, wetting your lips as you stared at him. Anakin's eyes narrowed as he studied your reaction. He visibly relaxed as a slow smile spread across your face. "I was worried you were going to slap me," he admitted with a grin, low enough so only you could hear him.

"I didn't slap you the first time, did I?" You winked.

...

Coruscant's biggest moon was hidden behind the clouds. Snow obscured any view you might have seen from your window. It didn't matter anyway. There was only one thing you were looking at. _Anakin_. The way the castle curved around this particular courtyard, your balconies were sort of diagonal from each other. Anakin had been standing on his balcony with his hands folded behind him for at least twenty minutes and you had been standing in your window in your nightgown watching him for almost as long. You could almost picture your willpower heaving a disgusted sigh as you slipped into a robe, gathered a candle and stepped quietly out into the hall.

You knocked lightly on Anakin's door but pushed it open without waiting. You hadn't expected him to answer. "Anakin?" You called out softly, setting the candle on the dresser. "Hey." You stepped out onto the balcony, shivering slightly at the chill. You stopped to the side and behind him, right where he couldn't see you, and ran a hand back and forth along his shoulders. He closed his eyes but stayed still and silent. You bit your lip, kneading at the back of his neck with one hand.

"We're leaving tomorrow," he announced abruptly.

"What? Did you use the Force to know? Can you do that?" You stopped your ministrations but left your hand against his skin.

Anakin shook his head. "No, not exactly. I just know." Which, he guessed, could be because of the Force. He had always been able to sense almost everything.

"How?"

He cleared his throat and glanced to his feet, slapping them against the cool stone floor. "Uh… Well. I think I may have figured out why we're here in the first place." His words were halting as though he didn't want to admit what he had discovered. You nodded, knowing he couldn't see you. "Okay. See, here's the thing." Anakin took a deep breath. "You know that thing that brought us here?" You nodded. "It's a Jedi relic, I was sent to look for it on a mission during the Clone Wars because we believed it could help us win the war. Legend had it that it could grant anything the person who held it desired." 

He turned to meet your eyes and stayed silent for a few seconds. "Nobody knew anything else about it. So when I found it, I didn't know what to do with it. I started pushing some buttons and before I knew it, I was in England. I didn't understand why I got cast there in the first place— and I was so mad. I'd tried anything and everything to come back here, but nothing worked. I figured I had somehow broken the relic, or that it was already malfunctioning to begin with, since it didn't grant me what I desired. And then two years later you showed up and suddenly I was back on Coruscant —with you. The fact that the relic had magically started working again only when _you_ got your hands on it irked me to no end." Anakin sighed. "I asked master Vohotam permission to get access to the Jedi books that talked about the relic, and then it occurred to me."

"What did?"

"That the Jedi misinterpreted the whole thing. The relic doesn't grant you what you desire, but what you  _need_."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that we're here because— I need you."

"I don't understand," you murmured, rubbing your hand across his back again.

"I don't really get it either, but I'm not scared anymore. The Clone Wars are over, and I'm not scared of England. That's all your fault," Anakin explained, the last part half-joking, rather than accusatory. "To help me, you had to know me. So here we are. But the Festival ended today. It just makes sense. Doesn't it make sense?"

You felt choked up, like you were going to cry. "Sure, Anakin. Yeah. It makes sense." You really weren't sure if it did, but then, that might just have been your muddled brain. Sighing lightly, you dragged your hand down his spine as you turned to go. Your fingers grazed his hand and before you could think or even let go, your back was against the arched doorframe and his mouth was on yours.

It wasn't short or sweet and you could think but only about how warm he was and the way he was gentle and merciful but took no prisoners. His hand strayed up your side to grip your neck and yours were pressed against the bare skin exposed by his undone tunic. You moaned against him, a rich, decadent sound that rushed over him. It could have been hours before he pulled away, lips dark and bruised. The both of you breathed heavily, breath come in short gasps of air. Anakin's hand held you roughly against the doorframe.

Your eyes met in the dark, crisp, diamond-like reflections of each other's want. Without a word, your lips collided again and Anakin's hand slid down to your thigh, dragging your nightgown up. The night around you grew still and quiet, leaving you alone to each other, your hands sliding the tunic from his broad shoulders and his pulling your nightgown over your head. You shivered between kisses. The bed hit your mid-thigh and he had to lift you up. Silky sheets, conveniently turned down, slid over and under you to block the cold winter air, though probably neither of you would have noticed anyway.

With your legs locked around his waist, you pulled away for the briefest of moments so he moved down your throat to your collarbone. 

"Anakin?" You gasped out. He groaned, though you couldn't be sure if it was an acknowledgement or a sound that came of his current state. He pressed a kiss to the creamy, sloping skin of your breast, his tongue tracing a frantic circle you were sure would leave a mark. Fingers tangling in his messy hair, you mumbled a, "Nevermind." Your hair desperately splashed across his pillow like a streak of paint on a blank canvas. Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night.


	11. Progress

It was still dark and you and Anakin were still nestled together in his stately bed, the red and gold curtains drawn around you. Suddenly, you leaned forward and, grabbing the crocheted throw at the end of the bed, wrapped it around yourself and made to get out of the bed.

"Ngh. Where are you going?" Anakin whined.

Without answering, you opened his dresser and dug around until you found the pants he had worn into Coruscant. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, you lit one on the candle by the bed and crawled back in beside him.

"They say those things'll kill you, you know," Anakin muttered as you rested your head on his chest, eyes closed.

"So you keep telling me." Anakin took the cigarette from between your fingers and slipped it between his own lips, watching as the smoke mingled with that of the only candle.

In the morning, you tripped your way down the stairs in a warm robe, knowing you would only find Padmé and Stilian in the dining hall. As expected, the man sat in one chair with his feet on another and Padmé bustled between the hall and the kitchen, taking trays of leftover food back and forth.

"Padmé, for the last time, sit down and relax. I'll help you clean up later!" He sighed.

"If I don't do it right now, it'll never happen and I refuse to let the maids work on their day off," his wife protested.

"Sit down, Padmé. We'll all help if you just do nothing for a little while," you piped up as you stepped into the hall.

"Well, don't you look just chipper this morning," Stilian commented around a piece of chicken.

Your small grin split into a wide smile. "It was a lovely party."

Padmé eyed you but didn't say anything. "Help yourself. If Stilian doesn't eat it all, there's plenty of food."

You chuckled at the couple's banter, reaching for a small group of grapes. You didn't pull out a chair, but sat on the edge of the large table with your legs out in front of you, ankles crossed. All three of you looked up as Anakin walked in, Padmé and Stilian observing the slight bounce in his step with knowing smiles.

"Morning, everyone!" He placed his hands on your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your lips.

"Mmm. Morning," you murmured, grinning.

"I told you that dress would bring out your eyes," Padmé teased with a smirk, dodging the grape you threw at her, laughing.

"See, I thought it brought out everything else." Anakin waggled his eyebrows, only earning him a smack. Stilian and Padmé exchanged slightly smug smiles and you had to suppress the urge to good-naturedly question their motives.

"So what kind of trip is this? Should I pack you something to eat on your way?" Padmé changed the subject.

Anakin shook his head. "Oh, no. It's sort of a split second thing. We'll be home in just a minute or two."

You raised your eyebrows, namely at his calling England 'home', but at Padmé's question as well. "You knew we were leaving today?"

"Yes, well, uh, Anakin told us yesterday that's what he thought," Stilian filled in. "By the way, Anakin, did you want me to get you a ship?"

"Oh, I thought we would just use the Jedi relic. After all, it's right here."

"The relic? But…"

"But what?"

"Well, it has only been used once."

"But we don't have the coordinates for Earth, let alone England."

"Yes, but if something were to go wrong while using the relic, we could lose you both forever."

"Anakin?" You interjected. "I don't much like the sound of this 'losing us both forever.'"

"There's nothing to worry about. We have the Force with us, it won't let us fall."

"Fall?" Your voice cracked. "As in, to our deaths?"

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be so dramatic!"

"And we'll be sure to collect all the pieces if it does."

You shot Stilian a less-than-impressed glance. His wife threw a towel at him. "Don't scare the poor woman, Stilian! He's only kidding, dear."

...

Padmé, Stilian, Tal and Alp stood beside the biggest tree in the Jedi Temple Arboretum in the Imperial Palace. Anakin narrowed his eyes against the sun as he gazed at the top tower, memories playing through his mind as if they were on a color film reel.

"Skywalker? You need some more time to primp or are you ready to go?" Your teasing voice cut into his thoughts and he turned to you with a smile. You were dressed in the clothes you had worn on your first day, though Anakin assured you you would arrive looking exactly the same as you had two weeks before, no matter what you wore when you held the relic.

He settled his hands on your waist. "Just thinking."

"Remembering?"

"Mhmm," he murmured against your lips. Your fingers wrapped around his forearms as you eagerly responded.

"All right, lovebirds! Let's go!" Alp barked, "As much as I don't want to say goodbye, there is a  very pretty little Iktotchi waiting for me."

You rolled your eyes. "All men are the same, whether they have horns on their heads or not."

Alp pranced from foot to foot. "Say what you will, but you love us," he sang, drawing laughs from everyone present.

"You can't live with 'em and you can't kill 'em, right, Padmé?"

"You haven't lived with one yet," she winked.

You gaped a moment before issuing a decidedly put out 'harumph' through your nose. Anakin chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Come now, we're all just stalling and Alp can't be late for his date. You know how these women are about tardiness."

Stilian and Anakin exchanged farewell pleasantries and he kissed Padmé goodbye as you spoke with Tal. "I hope you're not too angry?"

"Angry? How could I be even remotely upset with two people in love? You're all his, I knew that the minute I saw you with him." The man stroked your cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Goodbye, Tal."

"Goodbye, (y/n)." You both smiled and he wrapped you in a tight hug. So the goodbyes proceeded.

"Good luck!" Stilian called. 

You waved over your shoulder as Anakin tugged you toward him. "Just breathe. Have faith," he whispered in your ear as you both held the relic and he pressed a button. Before you knew it, you stepped out over nothing and into the chilly sun of Hastings, England.

You stood apart a moment, looking into the clearing fog. Finally, you half-turned to him. "Are you all right?" You murmured. Anakin rubbed his forehead with one hand but didn't answer. You sighed, so afraid you would lose him now that you were back. "Anak—"

"I'm perfect. I'm going to enjoy England with you right here next to me." He wrapped you in his arms and placed a long, lingering kiss on your lips. A muffled shriek from across the street interrupted you and you glanced over, irritated, only to find Margaret pretending not to stare. You flushed.

"Oh dear."

"What is it?"

"Um, well, it's Margaret. And everyone else for that matter! Anakin, certainly we've had time to, well, you know, but to everyone here we were only just screaming and throwing things this morning! We have to drag this out; we can't dive in without some sort of charade!"

Anakin placed a finger over your lips. "Shh. It's all right. Nothing public." With a sheepish look towards the nurse across the street, he added, "Well, nothing _more,_ anyway."

...

Sigh. Turn over. Fluff pillow. Turn over. Sigh. You could not seem to find the tiniest semblance of sleep. The waning moon barely sent any light through your window and memories of what little sleep you had had the night before refused to let you dream about them. 

With a final sigh, you gave in and, flicking your bedside lamp on, reached for the nursing book by your bed. On impulse, you pulled open the dresser door instead and drew out a tattered novel. With a satisfied smirk, you set about a personal guilty pleasure that just never grew old: It seemed the day your mother had found with horror the stack of pulp romance novels cleverly buried in your travel trunk hadn't had quite the impact it should have. A sharp knock on the door jolted you out of your quiet reading before you had read even a page.

"No lights!" The harsh voice of one of the older head nurses called through the wall. You sighed and placed your book back in the drawer before turning the light out. It was going to be a very long night.

A light shaking drew Anakin from his restless sleep. He groaned but dutifully opened his eyes a slit to peer up at you. 

"What?" He demanded, though it came out more sweetly than he had intended.

Traces of a hidden smile touched your eyes. "Come on, get up. Some of the boys are leaving; you're getting your own bed."

"My own bed?" His voice dropped suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. "Not your own  _ room,_ Anakin," you scolded, tapping a finger against his bare arm.

"You have your own room." He subtly stroked your leg with the back of his hand, twisting slightly onto his elbow so he could face you more comfortably.

You leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I think we're a little loud for the hospital, don't you?" Anakin watched you mostly sashay in the direction of the door, a visible smirk on his lips.

The day passed as slowly as those that had come before it and Anakin spent it twiddling his thumbs, waiting for lights out. His new bed was nice, much better than the cot he had been in before, to be sure, but it only held his attention for as long as a few pieces of metal stuck together can. He scratched in his notebook for a while, much to your insatiable curiosity, from across the room, of course, but it too could not entertain him for long. The fire that broke out in the kitchen did catch his irritated interest, as it forced him to sit outside on the lawn for three hours, feeling useless, while the nurses ran around frantically with buckets and hoses.

Finally, night fell on the rather horrendous day and, while dinner was worse than usual due to the fire, Anakin was eternally grateful. He waited until the lights were out and the men had stopped playing cards by electric torch and then quietly slipped from his bed. He padded down the hall in his socks, gingerly holding his side with one hand and inwardly grumbling that his duelling injury had miraculously disappeared but his original wound had returned in full force.

You thumbed on your torch with a grin. You were intent on reading tonight. You pulled out your novel and settled back against your pillow. You were not more than a chapter in when there was a soft knock on your door. You groaned.

"I know! I know! No lights!" You called, grumbling. There was a confused shuffling on the other side of the door so you rose to open it. Anakin leaned against your door frame, looking bewildered.

"I'm hurt. You were expecting someone else," he teased.

"Anakin! Good heavens, what are you doing up?"

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "What happened to 'oh god, Anakin, god…'"

A deep blush crept across your cheeks and you pursed your lips. Reaching out with one hand you pulled him inside and quickly shut the door behind him. "Anakin, I thought we agreed—"

"We agreed nothing public. Does that mean I don't get to spend time with you at all?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

You sighed, peering at him through haziness that smoke from the fire had left behind. "No… But what if we get caught? What if somebody finds out we've been fooling around after dark? Hmm? What then, Anakin? We won't be spending much time together at all, then, now will we?"

"Shh… You think too much. I just want to be with you and, honestly, I don't care if everyone knows it. But since you're so worried about it, we'll just have to sneak around." He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, pulling you towards him.

"Were you not just listening to me?"

"I'm listening but all I hear is paranoia," Anakin teased gently. 

Your hands fell against his chest as he leaned in for a light kiss. You almost instinctively deepened it, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. His thumb stroked along your jaw in the ragged rhythm of your kiss. You stumbled backward onto the tiny twin bed that stood against the wall. Quiet as you were, the bed still groaned and there were still the occasional footsteps in the hall, but with Anakin tucked in tightly beside you and his fingers tangled in your hair, you silently conceded it was worth it.

...

You were up with the sun, pulling on your tidy uniform. Anakin watched as you twisted your hair up into a practical bun.

"You know what I want?" He asked, tilting his head to the side to admire the way the early morning light soaked into you, despite the vestiges of smoke.

You looked up from your belt with a raised eyebrow. "Mhmm. I think I do." Your smile widened at his laughter.

"That's not what I meant." He glanced down at the scratchy, white sheets, picking at a piece of imaginary lint. "I want a date."

"A date?"

"Yeah, you know, boy gets all dressed up, brings girl flowers, takes her to dinner and a movie, gets her home at an outrageously decent hour, sneaks around back, climbs through her window and—"

"I'm impressed. You know how a date works." You winked as you finished buckling your belt and came to sit on the edge of the bed beside him.

"Well, I _have_ lived here for two years, you know. I do vaguely understand the concept."

You threaded your fingers into his hair at his temple. "And how do you propose we go on this date?"

"Oh, come now, you're not going to start back up on  that again, are you? After last night?" Anakin rolled his eyes with a sigh as he brought one hand up to twist your wrist around so he could kiss it.

Your retort was interrupted by the sudden 'ping' of rain on the window. You jumped to your feet and quickly leaned over your desk to throw open the paned glass.

"What in heaven's name are you doing?"

"It's raining!"

"Joy. Most people  _ close _ the windows when water starts falling from the sky, you know."

You pursed your lips at his sarcasm. "What do you mean 'joy'? Now it won't stink like smoke. Or burnt canned corn." You made a face at the thought.

"I hate the rain. It's cold and dreary and miserable," Anakin said, sounding rather like a petulant child.

You spun around, one fist resting on your hip. "Anakin Skywalker! How can you say such a thing? Rain is beautiful! It's soft and romantic and it lets everything live just a little bit more. It—"

Anakin reached a hand out across the tiny room and caught your hand, dragging you back to the bed. "Shh. I get it." He pulled you down on top of him so one knee rested on either side of him and a stray curl fell across your cheek. "But I still don't like it."

"You know what I'm going to do?"

"I hope so."

"For god's sake, Anakin, get your mind out of the gutter!" You giggled in spite of yourself and your admonishment.

"All right, all right, what?"

"I'm going to teach you how to love England," you declared.

Anakin raised an eyebrow. "And that includes rain?"

"Mhmm. Rain and lipstick and the movies and university and all that normal rubbish you seem to have such a distaste for."

Anakin shook his head. "You're normal and I like you."

You cracked a smile. "Well, it's progress."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, turns out Ani hates both sand _and_ rain.


	12. Rain

"So you know how you wanted a date?" Your voice was low in the hope that no one would hear you. You had seized the opportunity to speak with him when offering to help Anakin with his bath. He had raised an eyebrow with the sort of grin that would get you in trouble.

"Yeah?" Anakin acknowledged, his eyes closed and his head tipped back, relishing in the feel of your hands stroking his back, even through the rough cloth.

"Well, I came up with a solution for that." Your voice was light and airy, like a young girl with a secret.

Anakin whipped around, grimacing as he did so. "You did?"

You laughed, a tinkling sound that was more youthful than he'd seen you since you'd danced around the campfire together. "Mhmm. Now, it's a bit of an unconventional date, but we're not exactly conventional ourselves, so how about a picnic out of town?"

"How do you propose we go about that?"

You were quiet a moment before answering in a soft voice, "I decided maybe sneaking around isn't such a bad thing after all. Don't worry about it. I'll figure something out."

His hand came up to your cheek, his thumb brushing against the rosy skin there. He opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut and dropped his hand with an urgency that shocked you. You realized his reason a moment later, however, when Margaret's almost accusatory voice came from behind you.

"You'll figure what out?" The other nurse crossed her arms over her chest, one eyebrow raised.

"My bandages keep coming undone when I sleep." Anakin piped up before you even lost the stunned expression. "She was just—"

"I'm sure. Actually, Skywalker, some of the boys were looking for you. Something about sparring," Margaret cut him off. Anakin stood fluidly, not the slightest emotion playing across his face. It was then that you realized exactly how much of a part he played on a day-to-day basis. You were probably the only one in years to have seen the passionate side of him that was so evident every time he so much as looked your way.

"Probably that moron, Jonathon..." he grumbled as he almost stomped from the room, grabbing his shirt on his way out. You let your eyes run across the rippling muscles of his back for the briefest of moments before Margaret's voice brought you crashing back to reality.

"Oh my god! I can't believe you lied to me!" Margaret's fists landed on her hips; she looked decidedly put out.

Surprise crossedyour face. "Lied to you? When did I ever lie to you?"

Margaret's eyebrows shot up. "You told me nothing happened between you and that Skywalker boy, you dash across the street and when the fog clears  _ there  _ you are!"

You blushed. "Oh. That. Um, well, you see, I can explain; well, I mean—"

"Stop bumbling like an idiot and tell me what happened! You're usually so cautious and reserved. What's gotten into you?"

A sigh preceded your answer. "Oh, Margaret. I don't know. I've never felt like this before! He's so…" you trailed off, unsure of how to honestly describe Anakin. "…so different. He's unlike anyone I've ever known. He frustrates me to no end and then he turns around and does something so romantic and impulsive I can barely keep—"

Margaret smirked. "I'm proud of you," she interrupted. When it was obvious you weren't comprehending her meaning, she elaborated, "You never let yourself go, honey. You're always so worried about doing the right thing or being the right person you never let yourself just be yourself. So if that boy out there helps you let your hair down, and I mean  _ all  _ the way down, dear, then he's all right by me."

You gaped at the rather impromptu speech but before you could get a word out, Head Nurse Boyeln popped in. "You two! Stop gossiping and get to work; we've got a whole new round of casualties."

Margaret rolled her eyes. "You'll just have to tell me all the  details later, dear," she muttered under her breath with a wink.

Anakin never did find Jonathon. He imagined Margaret only wanted a little chat with her best friend and the annoying corporal hadn't been looking for him at all. Anakin only hoped you hadn't tried to lie again. It wasn't your strong suit. Reaching his bed, he noticed a small piece of paper protruding from beneath his pillow. He leaned against the side of the mattress and heaved himself up, slipping the paper out as he went. After settling comfortably beneath the sheets, Anakin unfolded the note.

_ Saturday – 6:00 AM (sharp, Skywalker – don't be late) Out in front of the hospital _

A smile crept across Anakin's face, mingled with a touch of contemplation. Carefully, he creased the note into a crisp square again and slid it back underneath his pillow.

Saturday morning arrived with the creeping fog so customary in England. Anakin kept his grouching and grumbling to himself however, as he pulled on something relatively suitable and tucked his notebook and a pen inside his jacket. Silently, he padded from the room and down the spiral stairs to the front door. A red MGTC sat just outside, huddled to the curb. You waved from the driver's seat and he hurriedly climbed inside to escape the cold.

"Lovely day for a picnic," he commented dryly, "Where'd the car come from?"

"It's my brother's," you explained, ignoring his sarcasm, "He's coming to work at the hospital and his car arrived ahead of him."

"Your brother's a doctor? Runs in the family, hmm?"

You shook your head. "Just the two of us. Father's a writer and Mum runs the shop. An antique shop," you tacked on the end, to clarify.

Anakin's eyebrows shot up at the descriptions but he merely nodded. A comfortable silence fell over the car, Anakin unabashedly watching you and you pretending not to notice, despite the blush stealing across your cheeks.

"So where are we going anyway?" Anakin asked, suddenly, his voice soft enough not to disturb the peaceful quiet.

"My godfather and his daughter are caretakers for an estate; it's about forty miles out of town. There's a lovely little stream and a big willow tree, just perfect for a picnic," you answered, all in a rush as though your nerves were as on edge as his were.

Anakin leaned over, tucking a curl behind your ear as he pressed his lips there. You shivered. "Ani…" you chided with a smile.

"What did you just call me?" Anakin asked with wide eyes.

"I— uh... I'm sorry," you apologised, recalling Padmé telling you all about how Anakin had insisted everyone quit calling him what you just did.

You didn't even know why you did it in the first place, it slipped through your lips before you had a chance to process it.

"Don't be," he assured you as he turned his gaze on the road ahead. "It's just that..." he trailed off, as if his mind was somewhere else. "It feels like a lifetime since I last heard that."

"Yeah, I know."

"Padmé?" He asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

You chuckled at that. "Yeah," you gave him a quick smile before you turned your eyes back on the road. "It suits you, you know." You informed him in spite of being almost sure he didn't want to hear it. "I won't call you that again if you don't want me to, though."

"No," he quickly spoke up. "You don't have to. I could get used to hearing it again." He shot you a sheepish smile, which you returned gratefully. 

...

Grassy slopes ran straight into cloudy skies, so much so that the fog trailed down the grass, mingling with the fresh air around you. Anakin pulled the large picnic basket from the car, examining the small stream that flowed between the grasses.

"Where exactly are we?" He questioned.

"The Walderbury Estate. Like I said, my godfather is the caretaker. I used to come here with Albert…" your voice trailed off with a touch of melancholy.

Anakin bit the inside of his lip but didn't say anything. "Isn't it awfully early for a picnic?" He quickly changed the subject.

You shook your head. "Not at all! If we didn't come for brunch, we wouldn't have the rest of the day for all manner of other entertainment, now would we?" You raised an eyebrow with a smirk, your fingertip tracing down the rough fabric that covered his chest as you traipsed away down the slope.

Anakin grinned despite himself; he had found over the last few days that he could never stay grumpy for long around you. "By other entertainment I assume a proper game of English bridge?" You didn't even turn around, merely shook your head, brushing the tips of the grass with the palms of your hands.

Anakin slammed the back of the car shut and followed, grasping the picnic basket handle with both hands. Reaching the bottom of the slight hill, he found you already spreading out the blanket you had borrowed from the hospital beneath the stately willow.

"There better be something good in here," Anakin grumbled teasingly, "I don't think I can handle another meal of burnt potatoes and gravy."

"Actually, it's not as bad as all that! I even managed to scrounge up a piece of pie. Just one, though, so we'll have to share." You brushed a final wrinkle from the blanket and flopped onto it, glancing up at him with a smile. Anakin set the basket down beside you and, tugging up his pant legs, knelt with one knee on either side of you. He smothered your smile without any hesitation, his hands automatically finding their way to your waist beneath him.

Your hands roamed his back, feeling the tension in the muscles beneath his loose, cotton shirt. The presence of the tight bandage also beneath his shirt put a grimace in your kiss and Anakin pulled away, his brow knitting with worry.

"What is it?"

You shook your head with a sigh. "Nothing. I just don't know how to live like this; not knowing what tomorrow might bring. I've never been spontaneous," you admitted.

A ghost of a smile touched the corner of Anakin's mouth. "Well, it's been years since I was this relaxed so perhaps we're just a pinch good for each other."

"Perhaps," you conceded with a small laugh.

You didn't get to the picnic, seeing as it was only more of something burnt and a wilted salad. Instead, you lay beneath the willow, the blanket wrapped between you and the damp earth. You rested the plate of peach cobbler on Anakin's bare chest, alternately taking a bite for yourself and sending one his way. Anakin's hand gently rubbed the small of your back, his eyes focused on something over your shoulder. It was peaceful and quiet, so much so that as a bird flew overhead, you could hear its wings flapping against the growing breeze.

Setting the now empty plate and fork on the grass beside you, you rolled off Anakin and nestled yourself next to him. Your eyes drifted shut. Anakin felt you relax against him and slowly, so as not to wake you, reached for his journal and pen in his discarded jacket. He shifted one leg up so he could lay his journal on it to write and clicked open his pen.

The sun rolled across the sky behind the covering of clouds and they darkened, unnoticed. It was after one o'clock when you finally stirred from your sleep. Anakin glanced down at you as your eyes fluttered open and peered into his.

You smiled slightly as he brushed the hair out of your eyes. "How long was I asleep?" You murmured, your voice thick.

"Mmm…" Anakin looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows in surprise, "About four hours. I guess we lost track of time."

"Oh!" You sat up, pulling the blanket with you. Suddenly, you noticed Anakin's journal open on his lap. "Are you ever going to show me what you're writing?"

He sighed deeply through his nose, pursing his lips at you. "It's nothing, really."

"Anakin, you've been at it for four hours straight. It must be  _ something_," you scolded.

"It's rubbish," he countered, but handed you the journal anyway.

You flipped to a page somewhere in the middle and Anakin watched as your eyes skimmed over the perfect handwritten words. Finally, you raised your gaze to his. "You're writing a fiction?"

Anakin shrugged. "Not like I don't have any experiences stored up," he quipped, raising an eyebrow and a tiny smirk.

You shot him a half-smile, rolling your eyes. "But this is set in England. And now," you pointed out, your fingers running over the ink on the page.

Anakin's brow knit. "How can you tell? You've only read a paragraph."

"And in that paragraph you made a quip about submarines and cursed parliamentary wigs."

It was with great effort that Anakin almost held back a laugh. Dipping his head to yours, he caught your lips between his own. You brought a small hand up to his hair as he pushed the journal over a large tree root and conveniently rolled you beneath him. His dogtags dangled from around his neck, brushing, cold, against your skin, but as your hands roamed over the rough, white bandage you didn't feel fear or trepidation. All you felt was Anakin and— rain. It took a moment for it to register before you smiled against his lips. Anakin pulled away, eyes wide. He made a grab for his shirt and pulled it over his head before jumping to his feet, fists on hips.

"You knew it was going to rain!" He accused over your giggling.

Through a smug smile you managed, "Of course I knew. Lesson #1: teach him to enjoy the rain." You propped yourself up on your elbows with a grin; Anakin balled your coat up and tossed it at you, only earning himself a wider smile.

"You think getting me caught in the rain is going to make me like it?"

"Trust the teacher, Ani," you sing-songed, slipping into your blouse and skirt. He crossed his arms over his chest with a childish pout. You rolled your eyes. "Oh for heaven's sake. Come on, we'll take the car up to the house and wait out the rain. You big baby," you added under your breath.

It took hardly any time at all to dash between the raindrops to the car and even less to throw the picnic basket in the back and hop inside. However, when you pushed the key in the ignition, nothing happened. You turned it again, confused. Anakin ran a hand over his face.

"Just what  _ is  _ the problem, dear?" He half-growled.

"Well what does it look like? The car won't start!" You threaded your fingers through your wet hair in an annoyed gesture. "Your bad mood is rubbing off on me. We'll just have to make a run for it."

"In this storm?"

"Would you rather we get out and push?"

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Which way is the house?"

You bit your lip, glancing out the rain-streaked windows. Finally, you pointed to a small hill to your right. "Over there, I think."

"You think? An interesting date this is turning out to be." With that, Anakin thrust open his door, jumped out of the car, straight into a puddle, and rushed around to help you out. You looked up at him in surprise but he only hurriedly motioned you out. Slamming the door, he grabbed your hand and began running, pulling you along toward the spot you had pointed out. You laughed as he pulled off his jacket with one hand, holding it awkwardly over your heads.

"Come on!" He shouted over the growing din of pounding rain, a trademark grin even you rarely saw pulling up one side of his mouth. You made a mad dash up the slope, sliding down the other side and up the next. As you crested the second hill, you could see the mansion preening itself in the reflective puddles gathering around it.

You passed him, pulling his hand so he toppled head over foot and slid the rest of the way down on the slick, wet grasses. You clapped a hand over your mouth, laughter mingling with the rain soaking you both. Anakin mock-glared, his mood obviously improved by your little jaunt and caught you around the waist, dragging you up to the house and under the portico. Laughing breathlessly, you pressed the bell, leaning against your soldier.

Footsteps sounded in the hall and the door opened with effort to reveal a young woman, maybe a few years younger than you with thick, dark hair and wide, green eyes. A grin displayed dimples in her cheeks. "Oh my! What in heaven's name are you doing out in this storm?"

"We were down by the stream for a picnic and got caught in the rain. Can we wait it out here?" You replied, catching your breath.

"Of course! Come in, come in." The woman ushered you in, taking Anakin's dripping jacket and draping it over a coat rack. She extended a hand to him, saying, "I'm Kathleen."

Anakin firmly shook her hand, running his other through his wet hair. "Anakin Skywalker."

"I assume you two would like to get cleaned up; I think some of Thomas' clothes will fit you, Anakin. Just put yours outside the door and the maid will take them. They'll be clean before you leave, I promise," Kathleen offered.

"Oh! A hot bath sounds positively delightful right now," you admitted.

"Well, come on, then!" Kathleen grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the stairs and pointing to another staircase on the other side of the entry. "There's a loo up there, Anakin; the clothes are in the attached bedroom. Feel free!" 

You got into the bathroom and Kathleen was kind enough to run a bath for you, so you proceeded to get rid of your soaked clothes.

"So."

You sighed contentedly as you sank into the large clawfoot tub. Your hair was twisted up so you wouldn't get bubbles in it. "So what?" You raised an inquiring eyebrow at Kathleen, sitting on a swiveling chair at the vanity.

"So who is he?"

"Anakin?"

"No, the mailman. Yes, Anakin!" Kathleen rolled her eyes in the mirror.

You smirked. "He's a soldier. Wounded at Normandy."

Kathleen spun around, tucking her silk robe better around her waist. "He's one of your patients?"

Blushing, you nodded. "Do they know the two of you are out here?" Kathleen asked carefully.

There was a long pause as you considered how you should answer. "The head nurse knows I was going to take a couple of the men who were able on a picnic, let them get out a bit, you know, but she doesn't know it's just Anakin and I. I knew it was going to rain, but I wasn't expecting a torrential downpour, so I don't know how long Margaret can cover for us."

Kathleen glanced out the window above the bathtub at the pounding weather. "It doesn't look like it is going to let up any time soon either. You might have to spend the night."

You leaned back against the tub with a sigh. "Just my luck."

"Well is he at least worth it?" Kathleen teased.

"More than," you grinned.

...

You leaned with one hand against the cold glass window of a second-story bedroom. A fire had been lit and it crackled welcomingly, casting a warm glow over the room. The low squeak of an opening door let you know Anakin was done.

"Hey," he murmured behind you, quickly closing the distance across the room and wrapping his arms around your waist. Anakin rested his chin on your shoulder, watching the streaming rain on the window pane. "It really is beautiful, you know."

You smiled slightly, turning to look at him. Ani grudgingly gave you half a smile as you leaned your head against the crook of his neck. Running a hand down your silky hair, he kissed the top of your head.

"Come sit by the fire with me," he said, just above a whisper. You let him lead you away from the window to the small couch in front of the fire. As you nestled against him, he pulled a thick blanket from the bed to cover you.

"Tell me something about your childhood," you requested rather abruptly.

You knew Anakin's childhood wasn't his favourite thing to talk about, but you couldn't help but feel curious about it. You were eager to know more about him— whatever aspect of his life he was willing to share with you.

"Hm. Like what?" He asked in return, which surprised you because you were expecting him to turn you down.

"I don't know. Things you liked, your mum," you offered. "Where did you grow up?"   


"A shit hole."   


You narrowed your eyes at that. "I'm serious, I wanna know more about you." He sighed dramatically but gave in anyway.

The corners of your mouth quickly curled up. And so he went on to tell you all about Tatooine, his mother and how he was born into slavery. The more he told you about the early stages of his life, the more you understood why he was the way he was— especially when you'd first met him. It was no wonder he seemed so troubled yet so mature for his age.

You exchanged stories from both your childhoods until you grew tired. You fell asleep in each other's arms, listening to the pounding summer rain and the softly crackling fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh to have a picnic with Anakin Skywalker in the middle of nowhere with absolutely not a worry in the world.
> 
> Thank god for fanfiction.


	13. Shakespearean Tragedy

It was reluctantly that you both stirred from your warm embrace but sunlight had dried the rain on the windows and was prodding you in your sleep. You disentangled yourself from him, running a hand through your messy hair as you stood. The peace of an early morning was disrupted with the squeaking of the shower and the maid at the door with clean clothes and the sounds of waking life downstairs. Slowly, you and Anakin made your way downstairs, dreading your coming return to the hospital and whatever waited for you there.

As you stepped into the dining room, Kathleen set a bowl of marmalade on the table. Glancing up at you, she smiled congenially. "Good morning! Did you sleep well? Oh, before I forget, I sent the gardener down to get your car; he's sort of a hobbyist mechanic. I'm sure he'll have you fixed right up in no time. Care for a waffle or two, Anakin?"

"Certainly. I shall have to stock up on good food before we return to the kitchen of a kindly woman who is quite possibly the worst cook I've ever met in my entire life," he smiled, picking up a plate from the stack on the corner of the table and offering it to your hostess.

Kathleen chuckled, generously heaping waffles on his plate and dramatically offering the orange marmalade. You shook your head as you poured yourself a cup of tea. "Where is Walter, Kathy?"

Kathleen rolled her eyes as you all sat down. "Visiting Mother. They  _separated _ two years ago, Anakin, and only talk unless there is someone there to mediate, but Father has a box of pictures of them under the bed and Mother listens to records he gave her every night so I don't know why they bother pretending."

"They've both always been stubborn," you laughed, thumbing through the paper. You handed Anakin the arts and culture section, snagging politics for yourself. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, wishing for the hundredth time that morning that you didn't have to return.

The mechanic, who's name you discovered was Matthew, returned shortly after breakfast with the car a bit muddy but no worse for the wear. Anakin gathered the few things you had together while you said goodbye to Kathleen.

"I'm happy for you, darling," Kathleen murmured, squeezing your hands. You stood next to the car in the fresh sunshine that slowly dried out the rain-drenched ground.

"Don't be too happy. I don't know what it is," you admitted. "What do I do if someone finds out? Or when he goes back to the front and something happens?"

"You deal with it because he loves you. Trust me, he loves you." Kathleen glanced up as Anakin came out of the house. "Trust me," she whispered, hugging you tightly. You sighed but kissed her on the cheek.

"Thank you," you murmured with a smile, pulling away to get in the driver's seat. Anakin followed suit, thanking Kathleen and climbing in beside you.

"Home sweet hospital," Anakin grumbled as you pulled up outside of the building. You tried to smile but found you were too preoccupied with what was going to greet you when you found your way inside.

Ever observant, he covered your hand with his. "It will be all right," he promised, "We're going to make this work, no matter what anyone in there says."  You smiled at him, a real smile this time, and turned your hand so you could curl your fingers through his. "And to negate that argument, I'd kiss you but there's someone watching from the doorway," Anakin half-teased, glancing at the tall, dark-haired man in the doorway, arms folded over his chest.

You turned your head to the side just enough to get a glimpse. "Richard." Pulling away, you took the keys from the ignition and opened your door before stepping out onto the street. "Richard!" You called with a smile, striding over to him.

Anakin got out of the car, eyeing you and your brother as you quickly embraced him. He closed his door and wandered over to you, hands in his pockets, just catching a piece of your conversation.

"I am so sorry about the car. I will wash it, of course," you were promising, obviously embarrassed.

"I will certainly hold you to that, too," Richard teased, one hand on your shoulder as he turned a half-accusatory stare on Anakin. "You must introduce me to your friend, dear."

"Oh I'm sorry! This is Anakin Skywalker. He is a patient here. Injured at Normandy," you said conspiratorially, giving Anakin a look that said very plainly 'behave yourself'.

Anakin shook the man's hand with a vaguely friendly smile, uncomfortable somehow. The fact that he knew you so intimately worried him suddenly. Maybe you were right to be concerned about being found out, what with family here suddenly. Anakin cleared his throat.

"It's nice to meet you." And, yet, he just  _knew_ Richard would be a catalyst one way or the other for you: a Shakespearean tragedy or a faun's love song his sisters loved to read about.

...

Anakin's pen glided over a crisp page in his notebook, perfect penmanship pouring out words. He sat on his cot, leaning against the wall, as relaxed as he could be given his injury and the situation.

"Ahem."

Anakin knew Richard was standing there, of course. He had always had a keen ear, perhaps not as keen as Obi-Wan's, but sharp nonetheless. Glancing up, he feigned surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't see you there," he said congenially, grinning.

"Anakin, is it?" Richard forcefully shoved his hands in the pockets on his lab coat.

"That's right. What can I do for you, Doctor?" Anakin asked, putting on that smiling face that had gotten him out of so many scrapes in the past.

"You can start by leaving my sister alone." Then again, it didn't  _always_ work.

"Has she expressed any desire to not see me?" His diplomatic skills may not have matched his late Master's either, but he could do nothing if not talk.

Richard stumbled for a moment but glared fiercely. "No, she has not. But the two of you return from an outing in the rain that kept you overnight? What am I to believe?"

"I can't imagine, sir. Of course, you don't know me but she appears to trust me. Doesn't that stand for anything?" Anakin demanded politely.

"She is a level-headed woman, it's true, but they all have their romantic notions and some strapping, young soldier comes along to sweep her off her feet, the first thing she's going to do is let all that logic fly out the window! I will not have you taking advantage of my sister," Richard countered, his voice steady and firm.

"She is a smart,  _capable_ woman with too  _few_ romantic notions and you ought to let her live her own life. If it was my sister, and, yes, I have two, I would let her court whoever she pleased." Anakin turned back to his notebook with a finality that rang of dismissal. Of course, if it really were him and Janet or Diane, he would be just as hard-nosed and suspicious as Richard was being —even if they were just his foster sisters, but Richard didn't need to know any of that.

Richard reached down, snapping the journal shut with his fingertips so Anakin looked up at him in annoyance. "I don't know what you think you're up to but a few days in her company do not make you an expert on her. In fact, I would be willing to bet you don't know a thing about her beyond what your imagination has cooked up about a pretty nurse."

"She likes Jane Austen, she loves the rain, hates being told what to do but doesn't always speak up for herself when she should. She loves England more than  _anyone_ should but has a distaste for the ocean because her fiancé drowned in it. Your father is a writer, one thing she finds interesting about  _me_ ," Anakin paused to tap his notebook, "and she drives like a maniac. I'll never be an expert on her, probably no one could, but the little things I do know? Make me wonder if I love her even though I've done my damn fucking best to make sure that didn't happen. So don't preach at me."

Richard blinked, straightening slowly. His brow knit together as he wondered how anyone could get you to open up that much in the span of a few days. "I'm not preaching. I'm telling," he barked, turning on his heel and walking purposefully, hurriedly away.

Anakin sighed. So Shakespearean tragedy, then.

"Your brother hates me," he told you later, in the bath.

"He doesn't hate you," you sighed from behind him, running the sponge down his chest.

Anakin bit his tongue over ratting Richard out. You didn't need to know they suddenly had very real opposition. It would only put a greater strain on you and he didn't want to be the one to inflict that.

"If it helps, I at least now have a fond memory of rain," Anakin changed the subject, reaching up to squeeze your hand.

"I told you," you laughed quietly, brushing your lips over his temple. "It's romantic."

"It was only romantic because you were there," Anakin shot back, closing his eyes.

You bent again so your lips moved next to his ear, whispering, "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Shush." Anakin flicked water on you with one hand and grinned that he could make you laugh like that.

Richard ground his teeth as he watched silently from the darkened doorway as Anakin snuck down the hall toward your room that night. What had happened to your honor? Had this war really turned every man into a drunken, womanizing sot and every woman into a swooning harlot? Was that what the Germans were bringing them?

He clenched his fists together in his pockets, forcing himself to turn away and walk steadfastly in the opposite direction. It would do no good to barge in with declarations of saving your honor; you would only run off with the boy for it.

No, no, if he were to get you away from that good-for-nothing, enlisted man's waterboy, he would have to have a very clever plan. It pained him to realize he would have to see you together more to learn what buttons to push to drive you apart, but it was small suffering indeed if he could only save his sweet, little sister from an ill match with such an inexperienced  _boy_.


	14. Adjustments

Anakin stood leaning against a pillar in the small, shabby courtyard, toying with a mostly burnt cigarette. He tapped it with his finger, watching the ashes fall slowly to the cobblestone. He sighed, unsure of himself these days. In Coruscant he had fallen in love with an English girl but in England her brother sought to keep them apart. Richard had grown increasingly difficult the last few days, even going so far as to rearrange the schedules so that Anakin was given his bath by Nurse Bradford, a kind but portly older woman. Not the same as you with you hands hot and wet, running over his skin. Anakin shook himself at the thought, trying not to smile.

A knock resounded next to his head on the stone pillar and Anakin jumped nearly out of his skin. He spun around to glare fiercely at you, his free hand on the bandage on his chest. "Don't sneak up on a person like that!" He chided, quieting your giggles.

"Sorry, love," you murmured, still smirking as you reached out a hand. "Are you quite all right?" Anakin pulled away and leaned back against the pillar, putting his cigarette between his lips and moodily folding his arms over his chest. You sighed, resting your hand on his shoulder anyway. "What's wrong?" You asked quietly.

"Nothing," Anakin assured you, lying easily. "Just… adjusting."

"Ani, honestly, if something— if something is  _bothering_ you, just tell me," you half-begged, concerned about how he had been pulling away from you.

"Nothing is bothering me!" Anakin snapped, dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his shoe. "Just drop it."

You swallowed hard, your eyes closing briefly as you fought to keep a hold of yourself. "Is it me?" You asked finally, your hand falling off his shoulder.

"What?" Anakin growled, struggling to get another cigarette out of his pocket.

"Is it me?" You asked again, hating that he had reduced you to such insecurities.

Anakin froze, turning towards you. He slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket and took you by the shoulders. "No. Absolutely not. God, no, I'm so sorry," Anakin swore, meeting your eyes with fearful sincerity. "I'm so sorry I let you think that."

You breathed a sigh of relief, wrapping your arms around him, your face buried in his chest. "I thought, with Richard being so difficult, you had decided I wasn't worth it," you admitted in embarrassment, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Sliding his arms around your small frame, against his better judgment since you were standing where anyone could pop in on you, Anakin rested his lips on your temple. "You're worth everything he can dole out," he promised quietly, rubbing a hand over your back.

You let out a soft breath, pulling back, as much as you wanted to stay in his arms forever. "I apologize for him. He's a bit… old-fashioned, I suppose," you shrugged. "It can be frustrating."

Anakin shook his head, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "It's understandable," he disagreed. "What's  frustrating is you giving Jonathon fucking Dietrich a  _sponge bath_ while Nurse Bradford is scrubbing at me across the hall."

You bit your lip to hide a smile. "I  _am_ sorry about that," you said.

"I just want to be able to see you," Ani murmured, his hand cupping your cheek and his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. "I've probably only got two or three weeks at the most before they send me back out and I don't want to miss a second with you."

It was the first time either of you had addressed the fact that Anakin wouldn't  _indefinitely_ be staying at the hospital. It had taken just about two weeks for his wound to heal in Coruscant; it would only take slightly longer in England and then he would be gone, back to fighting for your country.

But then what?

There were so many possibilities but really only two paths: either he would perish in a fight, lost forever, nameless, in some trench somewhere or as a hero, buried with his name on a white cross or he would survive and go on to live a long and happy life.

If he died, it would be easy. Whatever it was that you had would end and you would move on. You would marry someone else, someone less exciting perhaps, but more suitable and more British.

But if he lived, it would be hard. There could be more between you than rainy June days and soft, warm beds. There could be a future. You could get married and settle down, have babies and grow grey together.

The very thought seemed to terrify both of you, much more than if he died a warrior's death.

You looked away, the thoughts tumbling through your mind. "How about a movie?" You said quietly, ignoring the confusion and the emotions. "I have Saturday off; you could sneak out and we could catch a matinee."

Watching you closely, Anakin nodded his resignation. "More teaching me to love modern England?" He sighed.

You smiled, meeting his eyes again as the conversation grew less serious. "I thought we could go see  _Henry V_ , Laurence Olivier. It's still a movie so I'm happy but you get your swordfights."

Anakin laughed, leaning one arm up on the pillar beside him, his cigarette dangling from his fingers. "Sounds good," he agreed, but not for the film. Like he had said, he just wanted to be with you and if that meant sitting in a stuffy cinema for two hours, he would.

You glanced around to be sure you were alone before leaning in to steal a kiss. "The theatre is downtown. Can you get there?" You asked quietly.

"I'll catch a ride on the supply truck," he nodded, resting his hand on your neck so he could hold you close while he kissed you.

...

Anakin sat in the back of the supply truck, bouncing along as they came into Hastings. "You meetin' somebody?" The driver asked in a thick Cockney accent from the front.

"A nurse," Anakin replied shortly. As enamored with you as he was, his attitude toward most things British hadn't changed and this truck driver happened to fall in that category.

"Mmm. A pretty one, I suppose, eh? Good for you. I say, the wounded are the luckiest. They get all the pretty girls!" Anakin rolled his eyes, letting the man carry on a conversation with himself.

Finally, they parked in town and Anakin scrambled gracefully out the back. "Thank you for the ride," he said, his voice turning easier, grateful.

The man blinked in surprise. "Not a problem, mate," he said, clapping Anakin on the shoulder before turning to sort through the mess in the back of the truck.

Anakin nodded and disappeared down the street to find the cinema. He spotted you in a blue dress, a large white hat perched on your head. You held your purse in front of you with both hands as you looked up and down the street, searching for him. Slinking along behind your line of vision, Anakin grabbed your hand and spun you around to face him. You shrieked but he kissed you before anyone could think something was wrong. Your arms wound around his neck, a smile on your face as you moaned quietly, his lips soft and warm on yours.

He ran one hand up your back between your shoulder blades, squeezing your hand with the other. Finally, Anakin pulled back. "You look beautiful," he murmured with a smile, meeting your eyes through the short white veil over them.

"Really? Even without a corset?" You teased, feeling free without the restraints of your uniform and the confines of the hospital.

Anakin laughed, running his hand up your arm to the short sleeve and slipped his fingers just underneath it, rubbing the fabric between them. "Yes, even without a corset. It's nice to see you how you're supposed to be, no uniform… no corset," he said, smiling slightly in acquiescence. "This is you." He pulled his hand away, tipping your hat slightly.

You smiled, wrapping your arm through his. "This was me before the war, anyway."

Leading you inside, Anakin fished through his pocket for the small wad of cash to pay for tickets. "You're still you," he murmured, that telling experience in his eyes, "War doesn't change who you are in here." He tapped his knuckle over your heart. "You'll see. When it's all over, you'll go back to who you were, maybe with a bit different perspective and a lot more wisdom, but still who you were. The war will just wash off you, like grime in a bathtub. You'll always remember it and it will never go away, exactly, but you will find the woman you buried inside of you when you signed up for all this."

You watched his shoulders straighten as he talked and listened carefully to his voice grow older, wiser. He paid for the tickets, stuffing change into his pocket. His eyes were bright and cheerful as he took your hand. "Shall we?"

You held his gaze for a long moment, thinking. He was a conundrum, it was true. He looked young but he acted wise beyond his years. He seemed fine with the situation, taking a dolled-up nurse out to a matinee— but the way he held himself, he was uncomfortable. You sighed inwardly. It would take a lot to show this man he could still belong in England. You nodded, smiling. "Lead the way."

The film had your hearts racing and you could feel Anakin relax slightly next to you. It was exciting and romantic and when Henry gave his speech to the troops, Anakin sat still and quiet in conviction that every word was true and he had said the same things to tired soldiers himself. Finally, the credits rolled and the theatre burst into applause. It was heart-pounding and you clung, breathless, to his arm as you walked outside, blinking in the bright, afternoon sun.

"I  _told_ you you could appreciate this crazy world," you teased, a pleased smile on your face.

"It really was fascinating," Anakin agreed, too serious.

You sighed, pinching his arm. "Honestly, Anakin. You can't just enjoy it, can you? You have to analyze it," you complained.

"Well it was very well done!" Anakin looked down at you in protest but smirked at the look on your face. "All right, all right. The popcorn was excellent," he teased, sucking salt off your bottom lip.

You grinned, tossing an arm around his neck and pushing up onto your toes to kiss him firmly. "It was, wasn't it?" You murmured, hooking your veil back so you could rub your nose over his.

"I think it tastes better on you though," Anakin whispered with a wink, earning himself a slap upside the head from you.

"Hush," you mumbled, blushing. "Come on, I'm positively starved."

Anakin let you lead him down to a small, weather-beaten shack by the docks. The sign nailed above an overhang, both faded from years of salty air, read  _Ernie's Fish & Chips_ with a small, red fish painted next to it. You ordered two meals and balanced them while Anakin paid.

You handed him one package, hissing and shaking your hand from the heat. "A right British tradition," you said with a cheeky smile. "I thought it would be appropriate, fish and chips, for your education."

You wandered down the dock onto the beach and walked until you found somewhere secluded enough to sit in the sand with your shoes off and just listen to the waves. You dug your toes into the sand, warm under the unusually clear day's sunshine. You swiped some of his tartar sauce on a chip, though you had plenty of your own and smiled when he batted your hand away.

"It's good, isn't it?" You teased, nibbling on the slice of potato. Anakin grumbled around his answer and you nudged him with your elbow, laughing at his reluctance. "See? England isn't so bad," you murmured softly.

He paused for a beat but shook his head shortly. "No. Not so bad."

You turned your attention back to your fish, letting him think. You sat there quietly, the small waves rushing up the beach and back again. When you were done eating, you set the empty packages aside and curled up beside him, your head pillowed on his chest. Ani trailed his fingers through your hair, untangling thick curls. He leaned back against the small sand dune blocking you from the wind, always relaxed at the ocean.

This place, with the dunes blocking the sight of steamer ships and war machines, with the waves the only sound, at least for now, with your shoes off and the sun shining, he could almost pretend he was in Scarif or Kashyyyk. The oceans were so blue, so green, so frothy and mysterious there. When he opened his eyes, he had to blink to see the dingy haze. In his mind, even if just for a moment, Hastings could have easily been as beautiful as those distant shores.

Anakin shook himself, his brow knitting. How could he confuse Scarif and  _Hastings_ of all places? He lifted his arm over your shoulder, glancing at his watch. "I should go soon, love," he murmured softly, distracting himself from his thoughts. "The supply truck leaves in twenty minutes. I'm going to be in enough trouble without missing my ride."

You sighed, lifting your head and holding yourself up on your hand behind him. "Just a few more minutes," you mumbled, sounding half asleep.

Ani smiled, instantly fully back in England. "Come on, love. Wake up," he said, his voice quiet and his lips brushing over yours as he cupped your cheek in one hand.

Blinking, you leaned into the kiss, your head resting on his shoulder. "Go," you whispered, "Before I don't let you." Ani shook his head slightly, too wrapped up in you to leave now. You pulled back, shooting him a warning look.

Anakin sighed and nodded, resting his forehead on yours to brush another kiss over your lips. "I'll talk to you later, love," he murmured.

"Bye, Ani," you murmured back, straightening your arm so you could sit up, your lips still moving under his, "I love you."

He paused and pulled back, slightly stunned but not wanting it to show on his face. "I—" you stared at him half-blankly, not having meant to say it and not sure what his reaction was going to be.

"I—" Anakin stood, not meeting your eyes as he pressed his lips briefly to your forehead. He pulled his shoes on, hopping on one foot and then the other. "Goodbye, (y/n)." 

You waited until he had disappeared around the dune to sink back onto the sand. You wiped at frustrated tears with the back of your hand. "Is it worth it?" You whispered to crashing waves, suddenly wondering if maybe your older brother wasn't right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things were going way too good to be true weren't they.


	15. Fling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's rather short :/ I'm sorry

You were late in returning to the hospital, your cheeks streaked with tears and sand in your hair from lying on the beach. You snuck in the back and into your room, washing your hair out in the basin on your dresser before collapsing onto the bed. Your few moments of sleep were haunted by the looming decision of  _ what to do._

Anakin lay awake down the hall on his bed, his hands folded on top of the thin blanket as he stared at the ceiling. Someone a few beds over was snoring and the man across from him kept wheezing in his restless sleep so Anakin immersed himself in the sounds to keep from thinking of you.  _ I love you_ _._ What had made you say it? You had seemed as surprised as he had been, but he still felt you had expected him to return the sentiment. Had he just ruined his chances of keeping you?

You were up before anyone else, unable to keep your eyes closed any longer. Washing clothes and helping Cook in the kitchen, you busied yourself with mundane tasks so you could focus on something other than him. You avoided Anakin all morning, not sure how to talk to him. You had had such a lovely day but then that moment on the beach… had you ruined your chances?

Richard caught you in the hallway and instantly knew by the look on your face that something was terribly wrong. He called your name and grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "What is the matter?" Shaking your head, you tried to break away without answering but he held on steadfastly. "Hey, what's wrong with you? Is it that Anakin boy?"

Tears filled your eyes involuntarily and you leaned into your brother's arms. "Oh Richard!" You cried quietly. "I really thought he did."

Richard rubbed his hand over your back comfortingly. "Really thought he did what, dear?"

"Love me." You buried your face in his shoulder, your shoulders shaking with confused and frustrated sobs. Richard paused, not entirely sure what you meant by that but sensing it was going to work in his favor.

"What do you mean? Did he say he didn't?" Richard asked slowly.

You shook your head without looking up. "No, but," you paused to hiccup, "he didn't say it back."

Tensing, Richard felt a rush of pain for his younger sister. "Oh, darling." He stroked his hand over your hair. "I'm so sorry." Really, he was. He wanted you to be happy. He had wanted to be wrong about that  _Anakin_. "But at least now you know his true colors."

"Do I?" You asked weakly, finally pulling away enough to look at him. "Maybe he was just caught off guard or wanted it to be special or…"

Richard cupped your cheek in his hand. "Darling, he knew it, I knew it and, yes, even you knew it: whatever the two of you had was never anything more than a fling. Now you can move on, devote your energies to something more productive."

_No_. He did love you. He must have. Why would he spend so much time getting to know you? You wanted to believe it was true but the more logical and realistic voice in your head was insisting Richard was right.

Anakin waited until he saw you go into your room on a break and quickly, quietly, let himself in behind you. "We need to talk."

You glanced up at him from the bed, your confusion melting away under his steely gaze. "Yes. We do." Your voice caught, an admittance of defeat.

Leaning against the door, feeling as though he shouldn't sit without an invitation, Anakin folded his arms. "I'm sorry if I offended you, but I'm just not there yet," he said firmly, a well-rehearsed speech on the tip of his tongue.

"That's all right." You sat up, your hands gripping the edge of the bed fiercely. "I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that." You opened your mouth to continue but the words stuck in your throat.

Anakin nodded shortly. "Thank you." He looked away, hoping this wouldn't push you two apart for too terribly long.

"Which is why I think we should end this." You stood to grip your desk chair instead, your back turned on him.

"End— what? No! Look, I'm not saying I never will but that I need time. I still have a lot to work through which  _ you _ told me, by the way," Anakin exclaimed, straightening up off the door.

You shook your head. "No, no. That's not why I want this." You turned around slowly, your hands behind you to keep you steady.

"You _want_ this? You don't want what we have?" It was Anakin's turn to stumble, his breath hitching as he stepped toward you, one hand out.

You flinched away as his fingers brushed over your cheek. "It's not  _ reasonable_. We are not being logical about this, Anakin. In a week, maybe two, you'll be gone and I will have saved your life only to have you die some bloody death somewhere else. We should leave it at what it was: a fling."

Anakin's hand dropped to his side. "I see." He glanced away, out the window, remembering bright moonlight, bourbon and raindrops.

You watched his face, blinking back the tears in your eyes. "You should get back to your bed before someone notices you're gone again," you said firmly. He stood there a moment, processing, before swiveling on his heel and walking purposefully from the room. The door closed silently behind him as it always did, never giving you the satisfaction of a loud slam.

You choked on a sob, sinking to the floor with shaking hands and ruined makeup.

Richard watched curiously as Anakin walked back to his bed and climbed in, his face set in a stern glare. He glanced down the hall as you came out of your room, the same look, albeit slightly more tearful, on your face as well. Looking pleased with himself, he finished checking a chart and walked with something of a spring in his step toward the operating room.

...

Posters hand-drawn by patients and nurses proclaimed:

_ Dance! _

_ June 17, 6:00 p.m. Cafeteria._

You had actually been excited about the dance, until that morning. Now the dress you had bought in town before Anakin arrived at the cinema seemed silly and needless— frivolous, even. You sat on your bed, staring at it as it hung in your open closet, pretty and red and terribly British-fashioned. Anakin would have hated it but you would have made him love it. You had been making real progress, teaching him how to love England. Now everything you had worked so hard to give him was gone, you were sure.

Knocking quietly on the door and pushing it in without waiting for an answer, Margaret stepped into the room. She sat next to you and wordlessly handed you a handkerchief and a flask. You smiled slightly, taking the two objects almost gratefully. "Thanks," you mumbled thickly.

"What are best friends for, right?" Margaret sighed, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. "I'm so sorry, love."

You shrugged. "It's all right. I'll be all right."

"Well you'll show him when he sees you in that dress. He'll regret every mistake he ever made, twicefold," Margaret said assuredly with venom in her voice the way a best friend is supposed to.

You pulled away, your brow knit. "When will he see me in the dress?"

"At the dance." Margaret's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You can't possibly be thinking of not going!"

"Well who am I going to go with?" You demanded.

"No one. Or, ooh, even better yet, you flirt just enough to get an invite from somebody else. That would be fabulously perfect," Margaret grinned, squeezing your arm.

You shook your head, not wanting revenge. At least not yet. Maybe you would when your heart had caught up to your brain enough to break.

And when you saw him the next morning with a cigarette between his lips and a serene look on his face as he scratched in that damn notebook, your heart caught up.

"Jonathon? You know, I have this fabulous new dress I would like to wear to the dance but I'm afraid there just isn't anybody special to see me in it." You smiled coyly, ignoring the look on Anakin's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's safe to say I like dances way too fucking much and I'm gonna throw them at these two as much as possible :P


	16. Prove It

* * *

Before he knew it, it was Saturday and everyone could practically taste the excitement. A real dance with music and pretty girls; it was enough to put smiles on every man's face. Every man's face but Anakin's, that is. Not being able to hold you in his arms was enough to take  _away_ his smile. He glowered at the ceiling as nurses helped several of the men into their uniforms before they themselves dashed off to change. It seemed it would be him, a handful of comatose and Nurse Boyeln tonight. Anakin sighed, reaching under the bed with a wince for his notebook and told himself for the hundredth time it would be nice to get some peace and quiet for once.

The room slowly emptied, some men on crutches and some in wheelchairs, but everyone laughing and giddy. Anakin sighed loudly, dropping his head into his hands. He sat there a long moment like that until he felt the bed dip down on one side. Looking up, he was surprised to find Head Nurse Boyeln sitting there with a cup of tea and a sympathetic look on her face. He accepted the cup almost suspiciously, mumbling his thanks.

"You should be at the party," she murmured quietly. "You're too young to be cooped up in here."

"Who am I going to dance with?" Anakin quipped sarcastically, assuming she wouldn't pick up the reference.

"Nurse (y/l/n) wants you to see her in that silly red dress," Boyeln answered, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not blind, you know."

Anakin stared at her in disbelief. She was the one you had been so afraid of finding out about you two. "Y—you don't think— what?"

Boyeln chuckled, patting his leg. "Come on; I'll help you change."

"No, no, I can't. She went with Dietrich."

"And she wants you to see her in that dress." The older nurse repeated as she stood and retrieved his new uniform from under the bed. "Quite an array of medals for someone so young," she commented, unfolding it.

Anakin watched her for a moment before giving in. He didn't think it would be terribly easy to talk her down. "It's just scraps of metal, is all." He swung his legs out of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

She silently helped him change and dipped to her knees to tie up his boots. "Now come on," Boyeln insisted stubbornly, offering him her arm to get out of bed.

Anakin sighed, letting her pull him up. "You're not so frightening after all," he commented grudgingly.

"Thank you. Don't tell the nurses." The older woman smirked, patting his shoulder before disappearing down a hallway.

Chuckling, Anakin shook his head and slowly made his way in the opposite direction toward the cafeteria. The closer he got, the more he wished he wasn't doing this. He stopped several times to change his mind but the sound of jazz and big band and laughter floating out pulled him forward, if only because it made him think of you.

He pushed open the door and winced. There was red, white and blue everywhere, a Union Jack tacked up on the back wall and couples swirling dizzyingly around the makeshift dance floor. Taking a deep breath, Anakin walked into the room and straight to the punchbowl. He took a glass and sat down, holding his side as he scanned the room for you. Spotting you with Dietrich, he made a face and sipped the red punch. You laughed but it was phony and your posture was too stiff and your smile too weak. If he thought he would be glad to know you were unhappy without him, he was shocked. Instead, his heart clenched tightly, scolding him. Anakin swallowed hard and looked away.

You caught sight of him in surprise the moment he walked through the door. He looked handsome and every inch the soldier when he was in his uniform. You realized with a start it was really the first time you had seen him in it; when he came into the hospital, his old one had been mostly destroyed. Your eyes followed him across the room, though your hand remained on Jonathon's shoulder and you continued making meaningless small talk.

The night passed too slowly and you felt self-conscious in your fitted, red dress with the neckline that was almost too low and the hem that was almost too high. You ran a hand over your face and faked a smile as Jonathon came back with a glass of punch for you. You both stood there silently for a long moment before another song came on and he led you too eagerly back to the dance floor. You kept your hand on his shoulder, holding you two apart, and so focused were you on doing so, you almost didn't see Anakin tapping Jonathon's shoulder to cut in.

You glared at him weakly as he stepped up to take your hand, pulling you automatically much closer than Jonathon had. "What do you want, Skywalker?" You demanded coldly.

"You know everything I want," Anakin replied, too serious as his hand squeezed your side. Suddenly the dress didn't feel too low. It felt too warm, too constricting.

You swallowed hard at the look in his eyes, the fierce hurt and determination. "I thought we agreed to—" the song ended and he cut you off with his lips firmly on yours. You gasped in surprise, your arms sliding slightly around his neck in reaction. You moaned, tipping your head to the side before reality seeped in and you realized you were drawing smirking looks. "Anakin!"

Wrenching out of his grasp, you flushed a bright, carmine red. You groaned and, darting between people, slipped from the room in embarrassment. Anakin heaved a sigh, his hands still out to you, eyes on the door you had run from.

He opened his mouth to call after you but realized you were unlikely to appreciate the  added attention so he snapped his jaw shut again. Excusing himself through the small crowd, Anakin ran out into the hallway called out your name quietly. "I'm sorry." Stopping, he listened carefully for you. Hearing something on the small balcony at the end of the hallway, Anakin walked quickly toward the sound. He called for you again, this time louder.

"Go away," you mumbled, sniffling into your handkerchief.

Anakin sighed. "Love, I'm sorry." He reached out to set his hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off. "I miss you. It's only been a few days but I miss you. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"I miss you too," you whispered reluctantly after a beat.

"Then what's wrong, darling? Why can't we make this work?" Anakin asked quietly, stepping closer to you.

"B—because you— I— oh, Anakin, I don't know." You spun around, burying your face in his chest as you wrapped your arms around him.

Rubbing a hand over your back comfortingly, Anakin rested his cheek against your temple. "Shh. It's okay," he whispered.

"But it isn't! He's right, of course he's right. You don't love me," you mumbled.

Anakin froze, his arm around your waist. "Who said I don't love you?" Your silence told him exactly who. "Damn that brother of yours," he growled, pushing you away so he could meet your eyes. "I love you, I love you with all my heart and you've made me see what a  fool I've been for so long."

You stared at him in shock as you got away from his grasp, your cheeks still streaked with tears and your handkerchief still clutched in your hand. "What?" You finally managed shakily.

" _I love you_." Ani's voice was slow and steady, not wanting you to miss any bit of it.

"You... you love me? Why couldn't you say that four days ago?" You demanded with hot tears filling your eyes again.

"I—" Anakin sighed, dropping his hands to his sides and stuffing them awkwardly in his pockets. "I didn't know if you meant it or if it just came out. I—" flushing, he looked to his shoes. "No, I'm kidding myself. I may have been forbidden to love back home, but that doesn't mean I wasn't taught what it constitutes." He looked up at you anxiously. "Saying you love someone is a big commitment. It's more than a kiss or a night or…" he trailed off. "It's everything. I don't precisely have much experience in the arena; I'm practically still a boy when it comes to love."

Your breath caught in your throat and you reached out a hand to brush your fingertips over his cheek. "Oh, Ani." You stepped up to him again so you were only inches apart. "To know that? To know what it means to really love someone, to want them and need them and love them unconditionally? It takes more than experience or age. It  is  what makes you a man. You're no boy, Anakin." You smiled softly, brushing the tip of your nose over his as you kissed him.

Anakin's hand came up to rest on your neck, your hair soft beneath his fingers as he wrapped his other arm around your waist. "I'm glad you think so," he whispered against your lips.

"You're also not a man." Richard's voice cut between you, forcing you apart. He appeared in the doorway, a stern look on his face, arms folded over his chest. "And you're certainly not man enough for my little sister."

"Richard! He most certainly is!" You cried indignantly, your hand clenching in Anakin's lapel.

"Shh, shh, it's all right, my love." Anakin pried your hand off him, pushing you gently aside as he stepped in front of your brother. "His quarrel is with me." He drew himself up to too tall, glaring at Richard.

"There is absolutely no reason for the two of you to be  _having_ a quarrel at all," you insisted angrily.

"You think you can walk in here, catch her eye and then just break her heart?" Richard shook his head, stepping closer. "You have an impressive nerve."

Anakin raised an eyebrow, crossing his own arms. "I would say she took me back, forgave me, and therefore it's none of your business."

"Oh but it is. You see, she's my blood, my darling little sister. If somebody broke one of your sisters' hearts, would you just forgive and forget?" Richard matched the raised eyebrow and smirked. "No, I didn't think so."

"If Janet were really in love with someone, not just flirting, not just—" Anakin cut himself off, biting his tongue for a moment before continuing. "If either of them was really in love with someone, it would be their decision."

"Are you, sister? Are you  _in love_?" Richard said mockingly without looking away from Anakin's face.

"Yes!" You threw your hands in the air, knowing it would do no good.

Richard grabbed Anakin's lapel and pulled him out into the hall, away from you. "You hurt her and you will wish you  hadn't  survived D-Day. And you  _will_ hurt her. I know your type. You're all the same," he growled.

"I will hurt her, you're right. That's  _love_. You don't mean to, you don't want to, but you  _do_ ," Anakin half-yelled.

"Why can't you just give up the act? Tell her it's a fling. Tell her the  _truth_. Tell her you're taking away her honor for the sake of your own sick enjoyment and that when you leave, no matter what you promise, you won't ever see her again." Richard's hand fisted tighter and Anakin shoved him away.

"It's not a fling. I love that woman more than I have loved anything in a very long time," Anakin said, his voice dangerously low.

"It's not a fling? Prove it. Prove you love her," Richard challenged impossibly.

"You want me to prove it?" Anakin scoffed, backing up slightly. "All right. All right. You want me to prove it?" He turned on his heel towards you. " _You_ want me to prove it?" Before you could answer, he continued. "Marry me. I want you, the most wonderful and annoyingly British woman I've ever met, to marry me." He said, drifting from an angry shout to a sincere murmur. Taking your face in his hands, he met your eyes fiercely. "Marry me," he whispered.

You stared at him in shock, your hands hovering just out from his arms. You opened your mouth to answer but found the words stuck in your throat. "What—" your face broke into a wide smile and you pulled him to you, laughing as you kissed him with everything you had. "Yes," you whispered when you finally pulled away. "Absolutely."

Richard stared in shock as well, but then in bewilderment and horror and defeat.

"For what it's worth?" Anakin smirked, a twinkle appearing in his eye. "I love the dress."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your daily dose of Anakin being an impulsive little shit to celebrate Hayden's more than deserved comeback to Star Wars :)


	17. Not Long

You had accepted. You were going to marry him.  _She's going to marry me_. Anakin didn't have a clue where the urge or the nerve to ask you had come from but before he knew it, the words were out of his mouth. And he found those simple words were the last thing he could possibly ever regret. Marriage to you, falling asleep next to you every night and waking up with his arms around you every morning, was the only checkbox on his to-do list.

You had accepted. You were going to marry him.  _I'm going to marry him_. You smiled in the dark room, tracing the spot where an engagement ring would sit as soon as Anakin could afford one. Something extravagant you imagined. He would want a large diamond, something you could show off.

You had accepted. You were going to marry him.  _She's going to marry him_. Richard ran a hand over his face, sighing. He had seen the look on your face when Anakin kissed you and again when he asked you to marry him. He wasn't sure if it was love but it came closer than anything he had ever felt. Richard groaned, rubbing at his eyes and wishing for sleep. It had all backfired and now he would have to live with that Skywalker boy as family for the rest of his life.

Margaret threw her arms around you, squeezing you happily. "Married! I just can't believe it!" She exclaimed, smiling widely. "I mean, I knew, obviously, the two of you, but  _married_ —"

You held up a hand, laughing. "Just engaged, still, love," you teased, "Don't get too excited."

"Oh don't be silly! You two will grow old together," Margaret stopped you, tweaking her nose playfully. "No doubts about that."

You shrugged, not doubting it exactly, just uneasy about being too excited, practical as ever. "Well it won't be until after the war at least," you countered. "I probably won't even have a ring until then."

"Oh would you stop it? You're going to be a bride!"

Four days passed in a flurry of congratulations, disapproving glances and unusually warm nights. And then suddenly your time together was over, abruptly finished. Anakin was shipping across the Channel again to be transferred to somewhere in France. It wasn't far, not really, but you might not see each other for months.

"Ani, don't go," you whispered, his arms around your waist. "Run away, back to your family, back to Coruscant, go somewhere."

"I can't." Anakin didn't bother to wince at the casual mention of his former home, just kissed you soundly. He wasn't about to waste precious moments sulking. "I can't and you know it."

"I don't want to lose you. You'll go out there and I might never see you again." Your voice cracked and you pulled him closer. "Don't go."

Ani sighed softly, brushing his lips over your forehead. "Shh. Don't think about it, love. I'll be fine." 

He reluctantly let go of you, leaving you standing alone in a small crowd of people, two feet apart and longing to be in each other's arms. You stepped forward, your hand on his arm. "You'll be fine," you murmured, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Everything will be just fine."

"They say the war might even be over by Christmas," Anakin said brightly, though it lacked conviction, considering they had been saying the same thing for five years. "Anyway, we won't be apart long."

"No. No, not long." You smiled back, shaking your head despite the tears in your eyes. "Not long at all."

Anakin wrapped his arms around you suddenly, not caring anymore. "Everyone knows anyway," he whispered, tipping your head back to kiss you. You laughed softly, curling your fingers in his hair.

"Come on, troops, on deck," a voice called monotonously.

You pulled back, wiping at your eyes. "That's you."

"Not long, you hear me? Not long." Anakin slung his bag over his shoulder with only a slight wince and walked up the gangplank. You stayed there on the dock long after you were supposed to have returned to the hospital, just watching his ship fade to nothing.

_ June 26, 1944 _

_ My darling, _

_I have finally settled into camp and found a spare moment to write to you. I am so sorry you did not hear from me sooner. You would love it here; we are right on the water, just like you love. Just like I love. Something we can agree on. Speaking of things we can agree on, I have a small request: I want you to begin planning the wedding. I don't want you to think of this as something in the distant future, something that might never happen. We will be_ _married, my love, and it won't be long now._

_ Your humble soldier, _

_ Anakin._

_ July 4, 1944 _

_ My humble soldier, _

_I admit I had grown slightly worried, not hearing from you, but I suppose that is only natural, being a fiancée. I always worry about you, you know, and that_ _reckless streak of yours. As much as I would like to see you, in a hospital is not how I would like to be reunited._

_Begin planning the wedding already? But it is so far off! I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be a giddy, young bride now and then though. I will try, love. I will not make promises to run off and try on wedding_ _dresses in every spare moment, but I will make a conscious effort if it will make you smile._

_ Your loving bride._

_ July 12, 1944 _

_ My love, _

_I promise you, I would not like to be reunited in a hospital either, especially not if your brother is there to drive a scalpel into me. Sincerely, though, I will be careful, as careful as a man can be when fighting for his life. But for you, I will be cautious. I want to come home to you as much as you want to welcome me there. And to think, calling London home does not even feel strange any longer. It will be home, so long as you are there._

_ I will have a ring for you as soon as I can. My foster mother will want me to give you her mother's ring, but I'll have to convince her it would be better to let James have it and buy you something new-fangled. It would be appropriate, don't you think? _

_ Your Anakin._

_ July 24, 1944 _

_ Darling Anakin, _

_ Richard does not hate you as much as you think he does. He is only being a protective older brother, the way I am sure you are with your sisters. You'll see. He will accept you, I promise. Would I lie to you? (Certainly not.) _

_ I will be entirely happy with whatever you choose to give me, but perhaps shopping for a new ring together  would  be appropriate, seeing our path up to now. It startles me, really, to see how very far you've come, Ani. So very far indeed. I would love you if you were still that petulant, angry boy I first met, though, I do hope you know that. _

_ With all my love, _

_ (y/n) _

And so you continued, back and forth, written notes of how much you missed each other, a tease in this one and a splash of poetry in that one.

…August…

…September…

…October…

_ November 23, 1944 _

_ My love, _

_I have just received the most wonderful news! I am being given a week's leave to return to London for Christmas with my family. I took the liberty of speaking to your brother on a (rather expensive) phone call just yesterday and it seems_ _you will be allowed home as well. We will be able to spend our first Christmas together. And I will finally be able to introduce you to my foster family. I hope you are as excited as I am._

_ With love, _

_ Anakin. _

_ December 1, 1944 _

_ My Ani, _

_ I am certainly as excited as you are and to see Hyde Park in winter again will be a treat I had not counted on— and to see it from the warmth of your arms is one I had not yet imagined. I will show you a proper British Christmas, my love, complete with a tree and presents and twinkling electric lights. It is not fireflies and white roses in snow but it is my favorite time of year. Until Christmas, my love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying to write a chapter where they send each other sappy letters :P


	18. London

_ December 1944, London. _

King's Cross, he said to meet him at King's Cross… you stood at the station, pushing up onto your tiptoes repeatedly, your eyes scanning the crowd. You shivered but not from the cold —your thick, fashionable coat made sure of that. No, you had a sinking feeling about something and you just couldn't place it. He would show, he would come meet your family (he rest of them anyway), he would introduce you to his, _he would, he would, he would…_ your eyes closed as you chanted the words in your head, your lips moving silently.

"Talking to yourself again?" A warm, quiet voice asked in your ear. You opened your eyes and spun around, a wide smile on your face as all your irrational fears disappeared. You launched yourself into his arms, your lips firmly on his in an instant. After so many months, you seemed to have gained a little candor and lost a little self-conscious modesty.

Ani grinned, tangling his fingers in your perfect curls as you kissed him, soft and needy. "Oh I missed you…" you whispered, already never wanting this to end.

"I missed you too, my love," Anakin whispered back, wrapping his arms tightly around you and tipping your head back to kiss you more deeply, not caring who was watching.

Finally you pulled away, wiping your lipstick from him with your thumb. "I love you," you murmured, meeting his blue-grey eyes sincerely. Anakin reached into his pocket and pulled out a partly-melted chocolate that read the same words. Glancing down at it, you smiled widely and kissed him again, sweeter this time. "Sometimes you can be such a boy," you teased, wrinkling your nose.

Gasping in mock horror, Anakin grinned and broke the chocolate in half. He held one half up and you bit it off, crumbs falling into your hand as you laughed. "Maybe I like wooing you," Anakin murmured, watching you mischievously lick his fingers clean.

"Well lucky for you, I like being wooed," you said, sliding your arms around his neck and leaning into him, one foot kicking up behind you.

Anakin ate his half of the chocolate, grinning wolfishly at you as he swept you up into his arms. "Ready to meet the royalty?" He joked.

"Absolutely," you agreed, kicking your legs until he put you down so he could grab your luggage. "I can't wait to tell them all about our little adventure."

His hand shot out to grab your arm, spinning you around to see a suddenly stern and serious look on his face. "We aren't telling them," he said firmly.

"What? Why not? You can't keep a secret like that from them!" You exclaimed, throwing a hand in the air.

"We are  _ not _ telling them, do you understand me? They'll think us insane at the least," Anakin ground out, his voice turning almost harsh.

"You cannot  _ not _ tell them," you insisted, half-glaring at him indignantly. "Where do they think you came from, then?"

"Same as you did. America. They don't need to know, all right? I don't want to hear a peep out of you about it, you hear me?" Anakin insisted, tossing your bags up in the rack as you climbed on the train.

You huffed, crossing your arms and sitting down without a word. Sighing, Anakin sat beside you and tried to wrap an arm around your shoulders but you shrugged him off, staring stonily out the window.

The train ride out to London seemed far longer than usual, what with you giving him the cold shoulder for no reason. Suddenly you turned toward him, an annoyed look on your face. "What makes you think I need to be  _scolded_?" You demanded.

Anakin jumped at the abrupt break in your silence. "Scolded? What?"

"You scolded me, Anakin, like a child," you hissed in irritation.

"You were acting like one," Anakin answered before wincing and reaching for your hand. "I'm sorry, love, it's just a sensitive subject, you know that. Even more so when it comes to talking about it. I never told anyone where I'm really from, and it's not like anyone would've believed me anyway. The only one who does is you and it's only because you've been there. You see why I can't."

You nodded slowly, squeezing his hand and brushing a curl off his forehead. "I do," you promised quietly.

...

Anakin helped you out of the taxi and grabbed the bags while you dug a bit of money out of his pocket to pay the driver. The car pulled away from the curb and you stood there on the sidewalk looking up at the brick townhouse quietly.

"Lovely neighborhood," you murmured finally. Anakin nodded, pushing open the little gate that closed off their tiny yard and walking reverently up to the door. You watched him with a heavy heart, not sure what seeing his foster family again would do to him.

He rang the doorbell and listened to it echo throughout the house, muffled on the other side of the door. After a long moment, footsteps scrambled to the door and Anakin knew it was Diane long before the knob turned. The door flew open and she stood there, nine months older, her hair longer than he remembered, her figure fuller.

Diane stopped in surprise, breathless, with twigs in her hair and a bowl of cranberries under one arm. "Anakin!" She exclaimed, eyes wide. 

They hadn't even heard from him since he left and for all they knew he was dead; after all, there was all that Helen Duncan business with the sunken ship or what have you in the Mediterranean that they just shut right up in the courts and  _ those _ families never got word their loved ones were at the bottom of the ocean (Diane liked to keep up on these things). Janet, for one, certainly acted as though he were long buried. All this ran through her head as she stared at him before her eyes darted to the lovely woman standing at the gate.

Diane snapped out of her daze and, setting the bowl hastily on the hall table, threw her arms around her brother. Stupidity, be damned, he may only be her foster brother —but she loved him just as much as she loved James and she had missed him dearly. Anakin grinned, hugging her tight wordlessly, his face buried in her hair. 

"Oh, Anakin, we thought you might be _dead_!" The fourteen-year-old exclaimed quietly, her voice muffled in his chest, before pulling back. "We missed you so very much, and who's the girl, Anakin?"

Ani stumbled over his words, a blush creeping over his suddenly young face as he stepped back, motioning you up. You walked forward, fiddling with your purse as you came up beside him. "Hello, you must be Diane," you murmured, a nervous smile on your face as you held out a hand.

Diane slowly shook your hand, nodding. "Yes, I am." She glanced up at Anakin, your hand still in her own. " _Anakin,_ who's the girl?" She asked again, slower.

"Oh don't be rude, Diane," Anakin grumbled, resting a hand on your shoulder as he introduced you. "She's my— my fiancée."

Diane stared at him blankly, barely registering the words. "Fiancée? As in, betrothed to be married to?"

"Yes, that is the definition," Anakin agreed, "And here we all thought you weren't paying attention when Janet pulled out her dictionary."

Turning slowly toward you, Diane surveyed you, her eyes bordering on impolite. "Good heavens…" she whispered reverently before snapping out of it, a bright smile on her face. "Forgive me, (y/n). Just a little shocked is all. I can call you (y/n), can't I? After all, we'll be sisters soon. It will be soon, won't it? Don't let Anakin drag it out; he's lost two fiancées that way, did he tell you that? He likes to be engaged but I think he gets nervous about standing up there and kissing a girl in front of all those people."

Anakin flushed. No, he  _ hadn't _ told you that, but you didn't seem to mind because you only chuckled and let Diane drag you inside. "You can stay in Janet's room; she's hardly ever here at night anyway…" was the last thing he heard before you disappeared upstairs.

"Diane, wait!" He called suddenly, running up a few steps. You both turned back, eyebrows raised in question. "Where are the others? James and Janet and your mother?" 

Anakin very rarely referred to Helen as his mother —no one could ever come close to Shmi. No matter how lovely and kind Helen had been to him, he just didn't find it in him to do it. Helen didn't mind, content with the fact that Anakin had agreed to living with them after her persistence. She could not bear the thought of knowing a young man such as Anakin had nowhere to go when she could prevent it. 

"Oh, Mother's at work," Diane explained, waving a hand, "And James is at the library and Janet… I don't know." She shrugged, unconcerned. "Out, somewhere, I suppose."

Anakin nodded slowly, stepping back down to the floor, waving a distracted hand at you.

Diane led you up to Janet's room, a spacious white bedroom with elegant, washed furniture and sumptuous fabrics. "Janet has expensive taste," Diane explained, glancing around the neat room with rows of hats on one wall and a vanity cluttered with makeup and hair things.

"Oh, she has lovely taste," you breathed, drawing your fingertips over the bedspread.

Diane nodded, shrugging a shoulder. "All right, I suppose," she agreed, never quite having got the hang of doing her hair up with rats or wearing those silly hats. "You can either sleep on the chaise or share the bed." She gestured to the white lounge under one window.

"How does she afford all this? She must be terribly frugal," you praised, glancing back at Diane.

"She works at a hair salon in the city, saves and saves and saves, I guess." Diane opened the French closet doors and nodded inside. "You can hang your clothes up in here, if you like. There must be a little extra space." She pushed some of Janet's dresses aside and pulled down a few hangers.

"Well I just have the one bag, so hopefully," you agreed, setting the small, brown suitcase on the bed and popping it open.

Diane quietly helped you hang a few things up before she just couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "So how did you and Anakin meet?" She asked finally.

You smiled at her barely restrained enthusiasm. "At the hospital in Hastings, after Normandy. I'm a nurse, you see."

"Anakin was injured? At Normandy?" Diane's eyes widened in horror, just staring at you.

"Yes, he didn't— he never wrote?" You reached out to squeeze Diane's arm. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. He was so scared to write back to all of you, after just leaving like that."

"What if he'd died? We might never have known what happened to him." Diane looked out the window at the grey street, shock crossing her face.

"He didn't," you pointed out softly. "He's all right. That was months and months ago."

"How long have you been engaged?" Diane asked suddenly, looking back at you.

"About six months." You smiled, a dreamy look crossing your face, your hands pausing in fluffing out a dress. "It was June."

Diane smiled in spite of herself, placing a few dresses in the closet. "And I'm sure by next June you'll be married."

Anakin was standing in front of the fireplace, his hands braced on the mantel, eyes boring into his own painted pair in the family portrait.

"What's that— oh my god, Anakin!" Helen dropped her bags on the floor and in a moment, her arms were around her son. "Oh, Anakin, I missed you so much," she whispered, holding him tight.

Anakin smiled, hugging her back. "I missed you too," he murmured.

Pulling back, she framed his face in her hands, tears in her eyes. "Let me look at you… oh, you're so handsome." A smile crossed her face, her anger and terror that he had left without even telling her dissipating instantly.

"At least _I_ think so, anyway," you teased from the doorway, leaning on the frame with your arms folded.

Helen spun around in surprise, surveying you with confused eyes. "I'm sorry, you are?" She asked politely.

Anakin cleared his throat, stepping forward and leading you into the room by your arm as he introduced you to Helen. "She's my fiancée."

Helen's eyes widened before a smile spread across her face. "Oh my lord, welcome!" She cried, her eyes bright. "My boy, getting married… I'm Helen, dear."

You shook her hand, smiling. "It's a pleasure."

"How did the two of you meet? You're British so… how long have you been back, Anakin?" Helen asked suddenly, her brow knit in confusion.

"Just today, I promise," Ani chuckled. "She's a nurse I met on a… brief stay in Hastings."

"A nurse? You were injured?" Worry creased her face and, for the first time, he noticed how much older she looked. More wrinkles, less laugh lines.

"It's all right. I'm fine," Anakin promised, reaching out to squeeze her hand in comfort. " _Brief_ stay."

Helen looked as if she didn't quite believe him but nodded. "Well, dear, you and I must get to know each other," she smiled.

"That's a hint for help in the kitchen," Anakin joked and you chuckled as you leaned up to kiss his cheek before you pulled away from him. 

"Love you," you whispered, your fingertips touching his as far as you could before following Helen.

Anakin's welcome home from James was much less jovial. He came in, nearly frozen fingers working to unbutton his coat, and tripped over Helen's bags on the floor. " _Mother!_ " He complained loudly, heaving a sigh as he gathered the abandoned bags and made to take them into the living room. Anakin was setting the dining table that sat along the edge of the living room as the house didn't have a full dining room, doing his best to be useful, and glanced up at his brother, stopping still, a fork poised over the table.

"Anakin." James sounded startled but his expression was as smooth and calm as ever.

"James." Anakin nodded shortly, swallowing hard as he searched frantically for something to say.

James straightened, clearing his throat as he set the bags on the couch. He pushed his hands in his pockets, biting his lip, as awkward as Anakin. "Soo… when did you get back?" He asked finally.

"This afternoon," Anakin nodded, setting the fork down where it belonged. "It's just for a week but it's nice to be back in London, at least for a bit."

James nodded, growing quiet for a long moment before clearing his throat. "Well. I'll just be upstairs in my room. Er, our room." He shook his head and disappeared quickly toward the staircase, leaving Anakin sighing over the loss of everything his foster family had once held dear: respect, trust, and unwavering forgiveness.

Twenty or thirty minutes passed before Helen called Diane and James down for dinner. You came in with the mashed potatoes steaming in between your oven mitts, catching James off guard. "Who's the girl?" He hissed to Diane, standing.

"Oh, I'm Anakin's fiancée," you smiled, holding your hand out across the table as you set the potatoes in the center.

James stared at you, slowly shaking your hand, obviously shocked. "J-James. Anakin's brother. Well, foster brother, but I suppose you already know that," the seventeen-year-old introduced himself, wide-eyed, before turning to Anakin. "When did you get engaged? And to a bombshell?"

"June." Diane elbowed James and sent him a glare for the comment as she heaped potatoes onto his plate.

...

It was late and dark and the fire crackling in the fireplace glowed a dim red. Anakin's arm rested over your shoulders, the two of you quiet and still in the dark. "They don't hate you, you know," you whispered suddenly.

"I know."

"No, you don't. They don't hate you at all. In fact, they love you so much it hurts; that's why they're so angry with you." You squeezed his hand, nestling closer.

The door opened silently and Janet slipped in unnoticed, hanging her coat on its hook. She started to tiptoe upstairs before realizing someone was in the living room. Pausing, Janet pressed herself against the wall and glanced in the dimly lit room. She gasped quietly to herself at the sight of Anakin and you. 

"Janet hates me. I haven't even seen her yet but I know she does," Anakin sighed quietly, kissing your temple.

"She doesn't hate you. You're her brother. I promise," you assured him, your fingertips resting on his cheek as you forced him to meet your eyes. "I know how it feels to be a younger sister. You love your big brother unconditionally, even when he tries to stop your wedding."

Janet wanted to cry out, wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let him go again.

"That's different," Anakin protested lamely and for a moment you wondered if he wouldn't  _ rather _ they hated him. "He was only thinking of protecting you. I was only thinking of myself."

Janet tiptoed by the living room and up the stairs, wondering when he got back, how long he would be there and, most importantly, who you were. She was still awake when you slipped upstairs to bed, the room dark enough you didn't even notice her.

Breakfast was friendly and good-natured until Janet joined you, regally walking down the stairs. "I wasn't aware you would be  coming  home," she said to Anakin, her voice clipped but stiffly polite.

"I wasn't either until recently," Anakin admitted, clearing his throat as he took your hand beside him. "Janet, I want you to meet my fiancée,"

Janet stared, her arms folded over her chest. "F-fiancée? You're getting married?"

"That's right." Anakin cleared his throat as you stood to shake Janet's hand with a smile.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you." You nodded to the stairs with a laugh. "Since we're sharing a room."

"Yes, I saw that," Janet agreed, her voice dry and even as she sat down in the empty seat at the table. There was a long beat as you all stared at your plates, unsure how to fix this.

"So we really ought to set up the tree soon," Diane said cheerfully to break the awkwardness.

"Yes, absolutely," Helen agreed quickly, glancing between her two eldest children, the tension in the room increasing threefold at their lack of even a real greeting after so long.

"James and I can go pick one up," Anakin said, breaking a roll in half. Surprise flittered across the siblings' faces; Anakin always insisted on cutting a tree down, always said 'Christmas tree farms' were travesties and that Christmas was about celebrating the beauty of nature, not the _horrors_ of department stores.

"We can make cranberry garlands," you smiled, nodding to Diane who grinned back, much to her sister's concealed dismay.

...

"I think she's nice," Diane said, laying on her stomach in the backyard, the sun finally having emerged from the clouds.

"And— pretty," James agreed, clearing his throat at the roll of his sisters' eyes.

"She is nice and she is pretty but she's completely changing Anakin," Janet protested, her voice disbelieving that they could so easily accept you.

"Changing how?" Diane squinted up at her sister sitting on the plank swing hanging from a tree.

"Did you hear him? Go  _ pick up _ a tree? That's just completely not Anakin!" Janet cried, the excuse limp even to her own ears. "Besides, he never even wrote to tell us he had met someone, let alone was engaged. He just  showed up with her."

James sighed, flicking at a blade of grass. "Just let him be happy. I know we're all still upset with him, but he's still _Anakin_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It felt nice to give Anakin siblings for once lol, I feel like he'd be a great big brother (save for leaving to go fight in a war without saying goodbye, but shh)


	19. Happy Christmas

The taxi dropped you outside your parent's antique store and you stood in front of the small shop, your red gloved hand in his and a stiff, green scarf around his neck. "I promise they aren't as scary as Richard," you murmured, though you sounded a bit worried.

"I'm sure," Ani agreed, nodding, but didn't move from his spot on the damp sidewalk.

You groaned, pulling him forward. "Oh, come on. We already faced your family; we can do it again!" You pushed open the front door, the bell jingling cheerfully, and led him inside.

The shop was warm and welcoming, the scent of cinnamon and cloves in the air. Shelves of old books lined one wall and you walked sure-footedly through the maze of tables, knickknacks and furniture.

"Hello!"  A woman's cheerful voice called from somewhere near the back and you grinned, squeezing Anakin's hand before pulling away to pull your gloves off.

"Happy Christmas…" you sing-songed, following the voice.

There was a beat and then you heard your name being called out. "Is that you?" A woman with grey streaks in her red hair popped out from behind a tall cabinet with a 'sale' tag on the side. "Oh my god!" She wrapped her arms around you, hugging you tight. "You didn't say you would be home for Christmas! Is Richard with you?"

"No, they needed him at the hospital," you sighed your apologies as you pulled back, kissing your mother's cheek. "Actually, they needed me too but he got me cleared for a week, isn't it wonderful?"

"Absolut— oh, dear,  this must be the mysterious fiancée!" She cried suddenly, her hands on your arms but her eyes on Anakin.

"Yes, that would be me," Anakin laughed, his hands self-consciously in his pockets. He pulled one out to shake her hand. "Anakin Skywalker, ma'am."

"Yes, Mum, this is Anakin, Anakin this is my mum, Joan," you smiled, stepping back to squeeze his free arm.

Joan shook his hand, a wide smile on her face. "Oh you're handsome," she said, sending you an approving look.

You blushed, half-rolling your eyes. " _Mum_ ,"  you hissed in embarrassment.

"Tell me you've lightened her up a little; she's so uptight," your mother told Anakin conspiratorially, eyeing you with a teasing smirk.

Anakin laughed out loud, instantly at ease with this friendly, jovial woman. "She's lightened me up so maybe I've returned the favor."

"Excellent." She grinned, pulling back, her hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "Oh I'm so happy for you both. Roger! Come say hello to your daughter!" She called, leaning back to glance up the flight of stairs against the back wall.

Shuffling floated down from the loft above before a tall Irishman with dark hair and rumpled clothes appeared, dusting crumbs off his shirt. "Ahh, there's my little girl," he smiled, muffling your chuckling as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Hi, Dad," you murmured, hugging him tightly before pulling back. "Dad, this is Anakin."

Anakin held a hand out to the man, holding his breath with a prayer. "It's great to finally meet you, sir."

"I've heard conflicting opinions on you, son. My daughter, here, gushes that you're the best thing to ever happen to her but my son seems to think you're the Devil in disguise," Roger said with a raised eyebrow, his arm around your shoulders.

"Dad!" You blushed again, silently swearing to yell at Richard the next chance you got.

Anakin pushed his hand in his pocket again, glancing awkwardly at the floor. "Richard doesn't like me much," he agreed. "But I have younger sisters so I understand."

"And then of course there's the matter of asking for my daughter's hand, which you didn't do," Roger said, but his lips twitched at Joan's sigh of exasperation and he chuckled, reaching out to pat Anakin's shoulder. "I know. It's wartime. Don't look so petrified, son."

Anakin relaxed, sighing a laugh. "If it's any consolation, I had every intention of asking while we're in town," he said.

"Oh don't worry about it, Anakin. Roger's just flexing his fatherly muscles," Joan huffed, waving a hand. "I have tea on, would anyone like any?"

"That sounds lovely, dear, why don't we dig out some of the gingerbread too?" Roger suggested, kissing her cheek.

"Of course. Sit, sit," Joan insisted, motioning to one of the many tables in the shop. The three of you sat down and Joan quickly returned with a platter of gingerbread, a pot of tea and a stack of cups.

"So what is it that you do, Anakin? I mean, usually, when you're not soldiering?" Roger asked, taking one of the cups as he filled it and handing it to you.

"Anakin's a writer," you jumped in, sipping at your tea. "Like you, Dad."

"Really. You write fiction?" Roger's interest was obviously piqued judging by the way he sat forward.

Anakin flushed, sending annoyed embarrassment your way which you met with a cheeky grin. "Uh, yes, I do. It's really just a hobby though…"

"What have you written? Short stories or longer?" Roger narrowed his eyes at him intently, shooting off questions.

"Um… I, uh…"

"Longer," you supplied. "He has a novel he's working on, though he hasn't let me read it yet."

Joan sat down, nibbling on a slice of gingerbread. "Well, well, what's it about?"

Anakin ran his fingers through his hair, turning an adorable shade of pink. "I'm not sure. It's just scratching."

"Nonsense," you scoffed under your breath.

Joan smirked, smoothly changing the subject. "Is there any chance we can get the two of you here for Christmas dinner?"

"Ohh, Mum, I'm sorry, we had already planned to have it at Ani's house." Anakin cleared his throat and you amended quickly, "Ani's  family's house."

"I'm sure we can fit two more in at the table, though. We would be happy to have you," Anakin offered, already liking his future in-laws.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose…" Joan protested.

"It's not a problem. I'd love to have you meet my family," Anakin promised, watching Joan and Roger share one of those silent conversations only couples who have been married for twenty-five years can pull off.

"You know, we would love to meet them," Roger agreed with a smile. "Just give us a time."

...

_ "Oh please, Mother, please!" Diane cried, her tiny hands clasped together as she looked up at Helen from beneath thick, curled eyelashes. "Look at it, isn't it beautiful?" _

_ The old wardrobe had white paint peeling off its sides and the hinges squealed unbearably when the door was opened but the little girl really seemed to have her heart set on it. _

_ "If you can save the money, I'll pay for some of it," Helen agreed, wondering how her youngest had managed to wrap every one of them around her finger. _

_ It took Diane almost a year to save all of her coins but the armoire was still there when Anakin took her to pick it up from the antique store. A pretty soon-to-be nurse took the money and had Anakin not been so consumed by the sheer happiness on his sister's face, he might have noticed just how pretty. _

The door swung shut behind you as you walked back out onto the chilly sidewalk, a bell ringing cheerfully. Anakin glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed as the memory flashed through his mind. Fate, it would seem, had had a hold of him all along. A small grin pulled at the corners of his mouth and he stopped you with his hand in yours. "Hey." You turned back and he surveyed your face as if seeing you for the first time. "I love you."

You smiled softly and let him pull you in close. "I love you, too," you whispered.

Ice skating in Hyde Park. It was the only thing you were missing for your Christmas to be utterly and perfectly complete. Ani had insisted over and over that he simply could not stay upright on the ice but he trailed behind you anyway as you paid for skates.

"It's easy, I  promise." You laced up your own pair as he struggled to get his on and pulled him out onto the ice. Anakin wavered, clutching your hand tightly.

"You know, in my experience, one is supposed to avoid ice. One tends to fall through it and freeze to death," he remarked dryly.

"Oh stop it." You rolled your eyes, letting go of his hand to spin a graceful figure-eight. "See, just like this."

Anakin shook back and forth before his feet flew out from under him and he landed squarely on his rear. "Ani!"

Groaning, he pulled himself to sit up and met your eyes, gloved hands pressed over your mouth. "I'm all right," he assured you stiffly before nodding to the side of the rink. "I'll just be right over there."

"Oh no, no, no." You shook your head, grabbing his hand and helping him to his feet. "If I promise to hang on, will you stay?" You pouted slightly, eyes wide, and he couldn't resist.

...

"You're smashing it! Move, Anakin!"

Anakin groaned, pushing down the side of the tree that had been perfect at the lot so it could fit through the door. "Lift it  _ up,_ you're going to drop it like that!" He cried.

"I am not going to  _ drop _ it," James insisted irritably, shoving the tree in so his brother stumbled backward and fell to the floor with the evergreen on top of him.

"Ha! Serves you," James growled, but the effect was somewhat lost in his snickering. Anakin glared at him between pine needles, a look of threatened retribution that James knew quite well.

You emerged from the living room at the loud crash and stopped, your hands held up and sticky with cranberries. Your eyes crinkled around the edges as you tipped your head back in a laugh. "Oh, stop laughing and help me up," Anakin grumbled from the floor, trying to lift the heavy tree off himself with his brother and his fiancée standing over him, wide smiles on your faces.

Stooping over him, you grinned wickedly and pressed your lips to his instead, sticky hands on his cheeks. Anakin chuckled, running his fingers over your cheek as you kissed him, upside down. "Are you going to let me up?" He asked quietly, still grinning, as you pulled back.

You stood, helping James pull the tree upright and winking at Anakin as he climbed to his feet. He caught you around the waist and dragged you into the kitchen, laughing and shrieking. "Ani—" Your protest was cut off by flour dousing your head. You froze, eyes squeezed shut as you blew the white powder off your nose. "Ohh…" you blinked your eyes open to find him standing in front of you looking  terribly smug.

"Anakin, don't _waste_ it!" Helen scolded, holding back a laugh at the look on your face.

"Anakin Skywalker…" you glared, stepping forward so you had to crane your neck back to meet his eyes. "If we weren't standing under mistletoe, I would have to give you the cold shoulder for the rest of the day."

He glanced up at the small green ball hanging in the kitchen doorway and grinned, sweeping you up off your feet. Kissing you dramatically, Anakin held you tight and couldn't help remembering the first time he had kissed you under mistletoe, joking and teasing in front of an entire room full of politicians. You wrapped your arms around his neck, softening as you thought of the same thing.

If only you could share the incident.

Janet watched her brother and his fiancée from the corner of the living room where she stood grudgingly setting the table. She sniffed, wondering why you bothered her so much. Maybe it was because you had come out of nowhere without any warning. Or maybe because, because... really, there was nothing she had found to dislike about you. You were perfectly nice and Anakin was obviously in love with you.

If she were being honest with herself, it wasn't you she had a problem with. It was Anakin. Janet glanced up at him as he wandered into the living room to get a fire going. He stacked the logs silently, feeling her eyes boring into him, and struck a match. Tossing it onto the fire, he knelt in front of the hearth to stoke the small flame.

"Still hate me, then, I guess," he murmured finally without looking up.

"Why would I hate you?" Janet asked innocently, her voice hard.

"Oh come on, Janet." Anakin stood with a sigh, dusting his hands off on his pants. "We've done some pretty awful things to each other in all these years but this was the worst, the most unforgivable and even _I_ know that."

Janet clenched her jaw tightly together. "I don't  hate you. I'm  angry with you, but I don't hate you."

Sighing softly, Anakin stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry. I'm so... _fucking_ sorry."

"Leaving to join the army without any warning and only a letter for us to find in the morning _was_ pretty insensitive." Janet said. 

Anakin winced. "I know. I'm sorry." He repeated. 

Janet turned to face him, half a grin putting a familiar dimple in her cheek. "Come on. Help me get the boxes of decorations up from the basement."

Nodding, Anakin shuffled along behind her to the small access stairway at the back of the house. She pulled the door open and flicked the light on but paused to look over her shoulder at him. "I really am glad you're here for the holidays, Anakin."

Anakin nodded slightly, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. "Me too."

You ate a light dinner, cheerful conversation flitting between you all. It seemed Anakin had managed to make up with his siblings, or at least they had decided to put aside their differences for their favorite time of year, and everyone wore smiles by the time supper was finished.

Anakin and James strung the tree with big, bright bulbs in yellow and blue and red so it glowed in the window by the fireplace while the girls sat on the couch and the floor making garlands of popcorn and cranberries.

Janet and Diane pored through the small collection of Christmas boxes, finding long, red stockings to hang over the mantle and fragile glass ornaments for the tree.

"Here, plug these in and see if they work," Anakin murmured, handing James a tangled strand of lights.

"Bollocks, we'll never get these undone," James complained, just the way he did every year as he shook the lights so they lit up. Anakin smiled slightly to himself at the comment and glanced over at the others, feeling happy and at home for the first time in years.

"What is it?" James eyed him carefully, wondering what the introspective smile was all about.

Anakin met his eyes and his brother was startled to find calm in the light blue. "Nothing. Just happy, is all."

James smiled slowly, making a silent note to thank  you for bringing their brother back to them. "Come on, what's the hold up?" He asked good-naturedly, nudging Diane as he glanced away. "We've got a tree to decorate!"

It looked beautiful when it was all done. No, electricity didn't have quite the same magic as fireflies but there was something uniquely captivating about their living room all decked out for Christmas Eve. Anakin sat on the couch with his arm around you as you shared a gingerbread cookie, Janet and James engaged in a tense game of chess, Diane watched them all with wise, loving eyes from the hearth and Helen couldn't help feeling that for the first time in years, they were all just the way they were supposed to be.

Diane woke everyone up far too early the next morning, the radio downstairs blaring modern Christmas music throughout the house. You all trudged downstairs in your pajamas, grumbling and growling that it was entirely too early in the morning to be getting up but the lit Christmas tree and the smell of cinnamon and spice from the oven quickly drew smiles from you. Presents labeled from _Father Christmas_ and from Anakin to Diane and Diane to James and Helen to James and even one for each of the children from _Dad_ that Helen had received in the mail and tucked away for them until wrapping paper covered the floor.

Cinnamon buns and hot cocoa made for a guilty pleasure of a breakfast and even Anakin knew the words when you all sung along to _White Christmas_ on the radio, wishing for snow of your own.

Your parents arrived around three, bearing a fruitcake and pot of mulled cider, their cheeks flushed from the cold outside. The table was a little bit crammed, what with eight people seated at it, but it was comfortable even so, if only because it was family.

There was no turkey but Helen had managed to scrimp enough for a roast and it was Christmas dinner even so. The tree glowed in the corner and a fire kept the little house toasty.

For one night, nothing extraordinary had ever happened to their little family. For one night, they were normal and happy and there were no secrets between any of them.

Ani tied a piece of red ribbon around your finger as the both of you finished washing the dishes in the kitchen. "I'm sorry we didn't get to look for a ring," he whispered, burying his face in your hair.

"This is perfect," you disagreed with a smile, holding your hand up to the light so the ribbon stood out against your skin. "I won't ever take it off. In fact…" you paused, snipping off another piece and tying it around his finger. "There. You're mine. Don't ever forget it," you teased.

Anakin framed your face in his hands, leaning in to kiss you softly. "Never," he whispered back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty proud of myself for being able to get this chapter up on Christmas day. Happy holidays and, as always, thank you for still being here :)


	20. Bombs Dropping

"It was such a pleasure to meet you all," you said with a soft smile, shaking Helen's hand. "I only wish we could stay a little longer."

"Duty calls, darling," Ani murmured, leaning in to kiss your cheek, your small bags clutched in his hand.

"This time next year maybe we'll be sending you  home after Christmas." Helen smiled, eyes twinkling as she squeezed your hand. Pulling back, she hugged Anakin quickly as the others said goodbye to you. "I love you," she whispered in his ear. "Come home, Anakin, you've got a bride waiting for you now."

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "I know. I love you, too."

The cab honked as it pulled up and you stepped back, sliding your hand into his. You didn't  want  to leave. You didn't want to say goodbye to these people you found so easy to love, even if it was obvious Janet didn't particularly love you back, nor was Anakin on perfect terms with his younger siblings yet. There was something holding you back, that feeling you had had at the train station the day he left the hospital.

Anakin helped you into the cab and you tucked your dress under yourself as you sat down, your bag at your feet, and squeezed his hand beside you. The door shut with a heavy thud and you leaned around him to wave at the family outside.

"You all right?" Ani's voice was soft and quiet, brow knit in worry.

"I'm fine. Just a bit…" you shrugged. "I don't know. Just a strange feeling."

Anakin wrapped his arm around your shoulders, holding you close as you pulled away from the curb. Kissing your temple, he sighed softly. "I know what you mean."

"I don't want to leave London yet. And on New Year's Eve, too." You tipped your head back to kiss him. "By tonight we'll be back in Hastings and I probably won't even see you."

Anakin rested his head on the back of the seat, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, he leaned forward and tapped the driver's shoulder. "Take us to the nearest hotel."

"What? Ani, we'll be late getting back; we can't stop anywhere!" You protested.

"It's New Year's Eve. We can at least celebrate for a little while." Anakin cupped your cheek, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I don't want to go back there, back where I might not come home from, without saying goodbye to you."

You were already on the outskirts of the city so the hotel was small and a bit shabby but you managed to scrounge up a bottle of bourbon —champagne was a little out of your meager budget— and enjoy yourselves for a little while. You lay in his arms, the bottle resting on your lap on the cream sheet that clung to both your bodies. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Anakin's lips ghosted across your skin, over your collarbone and up your neck. "Yeah. Yeah, I know that."

"How did you get the room?" You asked for the fourth time, your thumb caressing the scar that ran across his right eye as he lifted himself over you again.

Glancing up to meet your eyes, Anakin smirked. "We're on our honeymoon."

You pursed your lips, trying to hide a chuckle. "You're terrible, you know _that_ , right?"

"Mhmm. Would you have me any other way?" Ani propped himself up on his elbow, stealing the bottle and pressing it to his lips with a grin.

"Happy New Year, baby," you teased, stealing the bottle back and setting it on the nightstand before framing his face in your hands.

"Happy New Year."

You were only a few hours later than you were supposed to be so you weren't really _late_ , just delayed. Anakin spent the night down the hall, his dreams peppered with you enough that he woke up with a smile on his face.

The way you clung to him at the station, however, put that icy fear back in his heart. "I don't want you to go. Run away, Ani. Go somewhere," you whispered, crying on his shoulder.

"Love, we've been  through this." Anakin sighed, tipping your chin up in his hand to kiss you. "I love you and I  _will_ come back, safe and sound."

"Promise?" Your voice shook as you spoke, tears spilling over your cheeks.

"Yes. I  promise. And when this war is over, we're going to pick out a ring for that pretty hand of yours and I'm going to marry you," Anakin whispered, even as the man was calling from the train. "I have to go. I'll be back as soon as the Big Three get their heads screwed on straight," he teased, kissing you hard before grabbing the bar and swinging up into the train.

You waved until the train was out of sight, wiping your eyes with a handkerchief.

_ February 1945 _

The world may have been holding its breath, the war would be over so soon, but Hastings wasn't finished taking a beating. The bombs continued to fall, destroying the town, one little piece at a time and when they hit the marina, so very close to the hospital, Anakin could no longer take the daily concern over whether or not you were even alive.

"Please, sir, I need to know if she's all right," he half-begged his commanding officer.

"Skywalker, I can't let you just run off. We're in the middle of a _war,_ if you hadn't noticed!" The man roared back.

"Fine. _Fine_. But just because you won't  let me, doesn't mean I _won't_." Anakin slammed the door behind him and it bounced off the hinges. He was on a bus taking the rocky ride along the coast to Hastings within the hour, permission  not granted.

He passed crumbled building after crumbled building as he entered the city and fear seized him more with each one. The bus dropped him off at the stop and he ran the rest of the way to the hospital.

It was intact. You were fine.

Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. A plane roared overhead and he mentally identified it as a ME109 before his eyes widened.  _A Messerschmitt 109._

The east side of the hospital exploded right before his eyes, knocked him back into the window behind him. When he recovered, Anakin found himself lying in a pile of glass, fire pouring out of the windows of the hospital.

"No! No, no, god, no!" Anakin was on his feet, even though blood ran sticky down his cheek and his hands and arms were covered in tiny glass scratches. He bolted out of the broken window and ran across the street, straight into the portion of the building still standing. "(y/n)! Can you hear me?" He cried out frantically, pushing aside debris and fallen equipment.

Looking around the room, Anakin felt tears sting his eyes, though even he wasn't sure if it was only from the smoke. Already wounded soldiers lay beneath collapsed beds everywhere and broken glass littered the floor. There was blood on the walls and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

Anakin called out your name again as he tossed things aside, searching for anyone still alive. "Anyone?"

"He-ere…" a voice answered brokenly, choking on the end. Anakin pushed his way to the hallway and dug the man out.

"I want you to stay right here," he said firmly. "I will be  right back." Anakin helped the man sit up and ran down the hallway as fast as he could. "Anyone else? Anybody?"

"Over here! Help, I'm stuck!" Richard pushed at the table crushing his legs and Anakin darted over to help.

"Thank god you're all right. Where's your sister?" Anakin demanded, pulling the table off and helping Richard up.

"Come on, we've got to get out of here before this whole place collapses," Richard said without really answering.

" _Richard._ Where is she?" Anakin asked sharply, even as he helped Richard limp out. He emerged with the two men, one after the other and still hadn't gotten his answer.

Richard swallowed hard, clapping a hand down on Anakin's shoulder as two men emerged from the crowd that had gathered and helped him onto a stretcher beside the ambulance. "I'm sorry, Anakin. She was in surgery," he murmured roughly, nodding to the burning building as the rest of it collapsed flat to the ground.

Anakin stared at him in horror before turning and  trying to run back into the building. Somebody reached out to restrain him but he barely felt them as he fell to his knees, sobbing.

...

"Honey, I'm so sorry." 

You clung to your brother, your tears soaking his shirt. "How can he be gone?" You demanded between choking sobs. "How can he be  dead? My Anakin, dead!"

"He died trying to save as many people as he could. He died a hero, doesn't that count for anything?" Richard asked softly, holding you close.

"I  love him, Richard! So, _no,_ it doesn't count for anything! The man I love is  dead!  It doesn't really matter  how he got that way!" You pulled back to yell at him, one hand resting on the slight bump on your stomach.

Richard swallowed hard over his anger as his eyes skimmed down your growing figure, faking tears to cover it. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say to you right now."

Sinking into a chair, you wiped at your eyes. "You can tell me he's alive, he'll be home soon and  I'm not pregnant."

"That, I really can't help you with. You should have thought about that before you fell into bed with a man that might as well have been sentenced to die."

_ March 1945 _

"Dad, I want you to take her out of the city, give her a change of scenery and, most importantly, save her reputation," Richard insisted, his voice low as he spoke with his father on the phone.

You rested against the doorway, your hand rubbing your stomach as you listened to your brother's half of the conversation until you were sure he had won. Now you might never get your chance to give your condolences to Anakin's family. Such lovely people, too.

"Where are they taking me?" You asked quietly as he emerged from his office.

"Countryside. Where you'll be safe and you can rest. I don't want anything to happen to you." Richard kissed your forehead tenderly, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck over your hair.

"What about Anakin's family? Don't I even get to  see them?" You demanded, though your voice remained soft and quiet.

"No, actually. I'm sorry, dear, but a telegram came for you earlier today from his mother. She wanted to let you know she was terribly sorry but she's afraid it will just be too hard on the other children if you try to see them," Richard murmured, a touch of disdain in his voice.

"That's—" you started to protest but your face fell as you sighed. "Fair, I suppose. That's fair."

_ August 1945 _

"I can't fucking  _find_ them!" Anakin threw a book at the wall in frustration.

"Watch your language," James quipped from the top bunk. "Can't find who?"

"Her family! They shut their shop down right after she—" Anakin's voice caught in his throat and he let out a shaky breath. "They just disappeared into thin air. I've got to find them."

"Why, Anakin?" James asked quietly, sliding down the short ladder to the floor.

"Because— because— oh, I don't know." Anakin turned around to meet his brother's eyes, tears in his own. "I miss her so much, James. It's like a part of me has gone missing."

"Talking to them will only make things worse," James pointed out. "You'll rip open those wounds of yours, Anakin. And I  don't mean these." He tapped Anakin's chest where so many scars marred his skin beneath the cloth there.

"I know. I just  miss her. I loved her, you know. I've never loved a woman, not really, not the way I loved her. I don't think I'll ever love anyone else the way I loved her." Anakin sighed and sank back onto the chair at his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's that. Richard's a dick.
> 
> I really wanted to get this chapter up before the year ended and I'm glad I did. There's only two more left, I think. If you're still here I want to, first of all, thank you for giving this story a shot and, second of all, thank you for sticking around. 
> 
> And I also want to wish you a very happy new year— we all need and deserve it. Thank you again for being here. :)


	21. Lover & Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's depressing and rather short, but it just felt wrong to move on just yet. Only one more chapter left :)

_"It's definitely a yes, Miss," the doctor murmured as he came back into the tiny room. You sat on the bunk, your back to the wall and your knees tucked up to your chest. You paled, glancing up at him. _

_"I-I'm pregnant?" _

_"I'm afraid so," he confirmed quietly, patting your arm. _

_ You held your hand out in front of you, the red ribbon tied on your finger seeming so naively romantic and insignificant now. "He's a soldier. I don't know if he'll make it out of this war alive," you whispered. _

_"I don't know if I'll make it out of this war alive," the doctor pointed out with a soft sigh. _

_"What do I do?" You asked, looking up at him with fear and loneliness in your eyes. _

_"You'll wait it out. They say the war will be over soon," he said wryly, tucking his clipboard under his arm as he walked out. _

That had been the day the hospital was destroyed, the day your brother verbally murdered your fiancée, the love of your life. And you didn't even know it because you had been at a hospital in Westham, a half hour away.

You gave birth to a beautiful little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile you knew would break hearts someday. He was only three days old when you have him up to a lovely family. You never knew his name, never knew what his dreams were, didn't get to see him grow up. He was your baby,  _ your and Anakin's _ _baby,_ but he was just a nameless face that haunted your dreams.

You went back to work in Hastings when they rebuilt the hospital after the war. Half the people in your life that you cared about had been killed there. Maybe it was morbidity that drew you. Maybe it was a need to be close to him.

Anakin met lots of girls, blondes, Brits, Americans, brunettes, Chinese, even a handful of redheads, but none of them so much as turned his head. He never stopped wearing the red Christmas ribbon you had tied on his finger in 1944, even though it grew tattered and worn over the years.

He never located your family. It would seem they didn't want to be found. Whether that was due to him or due to Richard, he couldn't decide.

His family gave him his space but slowly, over time, he came back to them. He wouldn't ever be the same again, he loved you too much, but they could accept that— even Janet. He seemed more human to her, it seemed, with a broken heart than he had trying to be a boy-warrior in a man's world.

1949 dawned and, though it was just another year to everyone else, to Anakin, it felt strange. As though he was on the very edge of something important. For months, he talked about it with his siblings, the odd sensation that they were being pulled apart. For months, all Janet talked about was her trip to America, how she was going to see New York and meet a handsome American man.

During February of 1949, you were complaining of pains and headaches. By April, you had been diagnosed with a brain tumor.  


And then it happened. A train derailed, killing Anakin and leaving his family heartbroken. He should have known. He should have known that was the reason he'd been feeling so odd lately. After all, he had always been very strong with the Force— no matter which galaxy he happened to be in. 

The tumor took you in June, your family's tears not enough to save you. For the rest of his life, your father would dedicate his novels to your memory. Richard never forgave himself. Your mother closed the new shop in Willenhall and every year on your birthday and visited your grave, a simple headstone that read your name along with the words:

_ Lover & Friend  
1922-1949 _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for taking so long to update, but I just recently finished watching Vikings and I'm all over the place (along with seriously considering writing for Ivar, oops).
> 
> I know it looks like it's finished but we're not quite there yet ;) hopefully I'll get the next (and last, oof) chapter up in a day or two. 
> 
> I sincerely hope your year is off to a good start :) and I wanna thank you for sticking around. <3


	22. With All Her Faults

Anakin smiled joyfully as though his heart could not contain all the good he felt, but still, when Qui-Gon had turned to attend to others, he stood on the edge of the great path that led to the great beyond, and he felt sadness. Something akin to sadness, anyway, as Obi-Wan had already pointed out they could not actually feel anything that might be called bad. Still, it _felt_ bad and even worse in this perfect place.

Obi-Wan set his hand on his friend's shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked quietly, sure he already knew.

"I just have to walk right down there, right across this valley, and I'll see her again," Anakin murmured. "I just have to take a few steps, a short jaunt, and she could be in my arms again, Obi-Wan."

"So go," he said, his voice gentle as he squeezed Anakin's shoulder. "You deserve to be happy, Anakin, and if you can't be with the woman you love in here, where else _can_ you be happy?"

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, turning to wrap his arms around his dear friend and former Master, pulling strength from him. "It feels like an eternity I've been without her, not four years."

Obi-Wan didn't answer, just let him hold on until he could stand on his own again— emotionally, anyway. "Go," he murmured again, nodding to the long path that would lead Anakin back to you.

Swallowing hard, Anakin nodded and walked hesitantly onto the path.

...

Your eyes opened slowly and as you focused you found yourself looking up at Margaret. "M-Margaret?" You clarified, your voice hoarse.

Margaret smiled widely, helping you sit up. "Yes, yes, it's me!"

"Margaret, you're alive!" You launched yourself into Margaret's arms, much to the other woman's surprise.

Margaret laughed out loud. "Not exactly, love."

You pulled back slowly, your brow knit in confusion. "Not exactly alive?"

"You're just dead, dear," she said kindly, patting your arm.

You stared at her for a long moment. "I'm what?"

"You're dead. It's all right. It's quite a shock for some people but you'll get used to it," Margaret assured you.

"I— I'm dead... _Anakin._ " Your eyes widened, growing wet. "Where is he? I have to see him. Does he know?" You asked rapid-fire.

Margaret arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean, dear? Your Anakin? What about him?"

"Anakin. He's dead. He— he died that day at the hospital, with you," you said in a rush, your voice thick.

"Anakin wasn't  at the hospital that day, honey," Margaret murmured slowly. "At least, I never saw him."

"But you've seen him here since then, of course, haven't you? Where is he?" You demanded, your hands gripping your friend's arms too tightly.

"I don't think you understand. Anakin… isn't dead. I would have seen him, I'm sure."

"He is, he is! He saved Richard and then ran back inside and the building collapsed on him and— and…" you trailed off, your eyes filling with tears, unable to comprehend what could possibly have happened. A rock glanced off the window and you both jumped, you wiping your eyes with your fingertips as Margaret opened the window.

"Well what do you know…" she breathed in surprise, stepping back and gesturing to the open second-story window. You stood slowly and looked out to find Anakin standing there with his hands on his hips, staring up at you. He trembled visibly when he saw you and you darted to the door, running quickly down the stairs and outside. Launching yourself into his arms, you clung tightly to him.

"Oh, Ani."

"God, my love, I can't believe it's you."  He wrapped his arms around you, one hand resting on the back of your head as he held you tight. "Oh, darling, I've missed you so much. Not a  day has gone by that I haven't wished you were with me."

"When Richard told me… I lived with a broken heart all these years, Anakin," you whispered, brushing your lips over his.

"Oh, me too—" Anakin pulled away, his hands on your arms. "What?"

"When Richard told me. I collapsed, Ani. Barely got out of bed for weeks." You brushed your fingers over his cheek, taking him in, a few years older, but still your Anakin.

"How did Richard tell you anything?" Anakin asked in confusion, pausing. "H— how long have you been here?" His heart clenched in horror, not quite believing Richard would be capable of hating him _that much._

"I'm not sure. Something tells me time runs a bit differently here. But the last thing I remember it was '49," you murmured, still not understanding.

"1949…" Anakin's eyes hardened and he wrapped you in his arms, holding you tight. "That _bastard._ "

"Anakin!" You scolded, lifting your head to meet his eyes. "Just what _is_ the matter with you?"

"I was killed in a train wreck in 1949," Anakin said stiffly.

"No, you—" your eyes widened. "What are you saying?" You pulled out of his grip, stepping away from him.

"I'm saying that your  brother played us for fucking _fools_! Where were you the day the hospital collapsed?" Anakin demanded.

You paled, not sure you could tell him the truth. "I— I was in Westham. I was helping out at the hospital there," you half-lied. "Where were _you_?"

"In Hastings. I heard about the bombings and I wanted to be sure you were all right." Anakin stepped closer to you, clenching his jaw. "When I got there, the hospital exploded, right before my eyes. I went in, managed to get one patient and Richard out. The rest of the building collapsed before I could go back in. For you. Because, you see, according to your brother, you were in surgery."

Your eyes filled with tears and you sank onto the bench behind you. "How could he do this to me?" You whispered, knowing not even Anakin could understand the gravity of what Richard had done. "He told me you _did_ go back in, that you were trapped— killed. I lived four years without you because of him."

Anakin dropped down beside you, his left hand resting on your knee. You reached out, tenderly drawing your fingertip over the ragged red ribbon tied on his finger. "You still wear it," you observed needlessly.

"Never take it off," he whispered back, leaning up to kiss your forehead as he took your hand and stroked his thumb over the matching ribbon there. "Nothing will ever keep us apart again, my love, I promise. No matter what happens. I'll never let you go."

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan darted down the road, waving to them. "Hello," he grinned as he addressed you. "Qui-Gon wants you up top. Both of you." A look of dismay crossed his face and he tugged Anakin to his feet. "You better tell her," he hissed.

You cleared your throat delicately. "Ahh… I know. He doesn't need to tell me anything," you murmured hesitantly.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "You know…"

"About the Jedi, the Force and everything."

Anakin flushed, running a hand through his hair. "It's a long story," he said roughly, sliding his hand into yours and pulling you to your feet.

Obi-Wan eyed you both curiously but shrugged. "Follow me, then."

You followed him back up a path into what looked like a meadow.

"It's good to see you again, Anakin." A man you assumed was Qui-Gon greeted him with a smile before turning to nod politely at you. "And you must be his bride. Welcome, dear."

You clung to Anakin's hand, not afraid, of course, but perhaps a bit leery. "Thank you, sir," you murmured hesitantly.

Qui-Gon laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that set your hair on edge but brought a comfortable smile to your lips. "I assume you have some questions regarding this place," he said gently.

"Ever so perceptive." Anakin joked, and had he not told you about who this man was, you would've reprimanded him for being rude to a stranger. But the fact remained that Qui-Gon was not a stranger at all— Anakin had told you he was the one that freed him and the main reason why he became a Jedi.

"This is the Other Side, you see." Qui-Gon explained. "Once we die, our spirits ascend to a plane of existence, if you will, and we become one with the Force."

"So..." you trailed off. "We're in heaven?"

"If you want to look at it that way, then, yes."

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to take it all in. Qui-Gon took your silence as his cue to leave you alone with your thoughts and proceeded to talk to Anakin about god-knows-what.

"Now," Qui-Gon's voice snapped you out of your racing thoughts. "I believe you have something you need to discuss with Anakin," he murmured, his deep baritone telling you _exactly_ what he meant. You flushed in dismay, glancing between him and Anakin at your side, teeth sinking into your lip.

"Something to discuss with me?" Anakin asked in confusion but Qui-Gon didn't answer, just walked away. "Something to discuss with me?" He repeated, rounding on you.

You flinched. "Ah… y-yes, I suppose. You better sit down." You nodded to a stone bench.

Anakin eyed you cautiously, sitting down with an anxious look on his face. "Love, what is it?"

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you, Ani." You paced slowly, wringing your hands. "That day… I _was_ in Westham, but not to help at the hospital. I was there for... personal reasons."

"Personal reasons?"

You nodded, running your fingers through your hair. "I— I was…" you stumbled over your words, not sure how to tell him. "I was…"

"Sweetheart, you know you can tell me anything," Anakin murmured, standing and resting his hands on your arms.

"I was pregnant," you blurted out, your eyes moist.

He flinched in surprise, staring at you. "What?"

"I was pregnant."

"I  _heard_ you." Anakin stood frozen in place, shock written on his face. "You mean… he knew?"

"I— I suppose he knows everything," you murmured, glancing at the archway Qui-Gon had left through.

"Not Qui-Gon." Anakin's voice was rough but tight, clipped. "Richard. He knew and he ruined your life anyway."

You glanced down between the both of you, nodding. "He knew I might be," you agreed.

"I'll kill him," Anakin growled, fairly shaking with rage.

"Anakin…" you trailed off, tears in your eyes as you looked back up at him. "Ani, my darling…"

Anakin tugged you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, that old familiar lavender scent heaven to his senses. He cried on your shoulder without realizing it, his fingers knotting in your blouse. "I have a child," he whispered in obvious shock.

You nodded, stroking your fingers through his hair. "A son," you whispered back.

He pulled back slowly, his hands on your waist as you wiped his tears away with your thumb. "A son?"

"Mhmm. Looks just like you," you murmured with a tearful smile.

"How could he do this?" Anakin demanded roughly. "To his own  sister? To a little boy, take his father away before he's even born. And his mother, come to think of it, though that wasn't Richard's fault." He brushed his fingers over your cheek. His heart had broken a little more when you told him how you came to be there, a tumor, a disease no one could do a thing about. "What's he like, our son?"

"I don't know," you murmured, your eyes slipping closed as you savored his touch on your skin.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Anakin asked, stepping back slightly, though his hand remained on your waist.

Your eyes fluttered open, your lips pursed. "Richard convinced me to give him up," you said sharply before realizing how little Anakin would like that.

"He did  _what_? You mean someone else is raising my son?" He cried, his voice ringing angrily through the courtyard.

You winced, tugging him back to you. "I couldn't raise a child on my own, Anakin," you murmured, not meeting his eyes.

"You wouldn't have  _had_ to if it weren't for that no-good, son of a—"

You glared at him slightly, pressing your finger to his lips. "You think I like this, finding out my brother virtually killed my fiancé? I  _hate_ him for it but you don't see me storming around in a hissy-fit."

Anakin glared right back, nipping at your finger. "Yes, well, I'm immature, remember?"

Your lips twitched and you leaned in to press them to his. "Living in sin in a place like this is a sure way to get us kicked out," you teased, sliding your hands around his shoulders.

"Well we'll just have to get married, then," Anakin whispered with a smile, pulling you back for a deep kiss, his hand sliding into your hair the way it used to as he dipped you down onto the bench, free hand toying with the hem of your blouse.

How he could feel such anger, such passion, such truly human emotions in such an inhuman, righteous place, was beyond him. But it seemed you felt them too and he couldn't help but follow you wherever you wanted him— and his heart— to go.

Kneeling over you there on that bench, he almost found himself wishing for England, for that cheap hotel bed with the broken springs and the lousy bottle of bourbon you had celebrated New Year's with, as ridiculous as that was. He just wanted a normal bit of life with his normal girl.

But he'd take heaven.

...

Janet sighed heavily, placing yet another sentimental trinket that had brought tears to her eyes in a box. She had never imagined it would be so difficult to clean out the family home so they could sell it.

So many memories there, so many more good times than bad. Helen was in the worst possible state of mind to take on such a task, that with Anakin's sudden death. Now that Janet had gone back to being the oldest, the burden of cleaning their house fell upon her. It felt weird being the oldest sibling again, she'd grown so used to having a big brother that it almost felt like Anakin had been there their whole lives.

She was working on Anakin and James' room now, the dirty socks and haphazard storage system bringing a smile to her face for the first time instead of a disgusted scowl.

Stacking papers strewn across Anakin's desk, Janet noticed his journal beneath the mess. She tossed the papers in the trash and picked it up, sinking into his creaking chair. Resting her feet on an open drawer, Janet cracked the journal, the leather folding as she pushed the cover back and began to read.

The first twenty or so pages were filled with notes and scribbles that seemed angry and hardly made a whit of sense. She scanned them disinterestedly until she reached a page with dark lettering:

** HOME SWEET HOME **

, it read.

Her brow knit and she flipped to the next page, reading the start of Anakin's novel.

She read, absorbed in his words, his near-flawless handwriting, until long after dark had fallen, her only light his small, green desk lamp casting a yellow glow over the pages.

The story of a boy— a man, really, with heartache and trouble, but all so very English. Not a word about kings or knights or blasted broken round tables. A beautiful woman with flaws and heartaches of her own captured his heart and Janet found herself crying more than once.

It was nearing midnight when she reached the last written page, only a few even left in the journal. His writing had grown pained in the last section, as though he were forcing himself to continue on, but he had finished the novel and he had only one thing left to say:

_ Be England what she will, with all her faults, she is my country still. _

Charles Churchill.

She recognized the name, Anakin's favorite poet, from when they had just took him in, when he had played with the idea of being a writer, had spent hours every day reading stories and making many of his own up. It seemed he had continued the habit without her ever noticing it.

Janet closed the leather-bound journal gingerly, as though she were afraid this one piece of her brother would disappear if she were to treat it too harshly, the way she had treated him.

The next day she wrapped the journal up and took it to a publishing company in the city.

Realizing her brother's dreams for him, even without his being aware, for she highly doubted he was, was the least she could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is. I started writing this in October and I can't believe it's over. This story has honestly been such a nice little escape from everything for me, I can only hope it has been the same for you.
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart if you've made it here. <3


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